

Class T7 ^ 

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COPYRIGHT DEPOSIT. 










































Alice Sherman Gifford. 


A ROMANCE 

OE HELLERISM 


BY 

ALICE SHERMAN GIFFORD 




F. TENNYSON NEELY CO. 

114 Fifth Avenue 90 Queen Street 

NEW YORK LONDON 

— 



THE LJSRAKY OF 
CONGRESS. 

Two Cohes RtceivFs 

JAN. 6 1902 j 

CopvRtOHT £NTHY 

0 

ret VL-. / <7 <7 V 
CLASS A. XXc, No. 

w-ov 

copy a 


Copyright, 1901, 
by 

ALICE SHERMAN GIFFORD, 
in the 

United States 
and 

Great Britain. 

Entered at Stationer’s Hall, 
London. 

All Rights Reserved. 


A Romance of Hellerism , 


CONTENTS. 

PAGE 

A Romance of Hellerism i 

La Casa Negra 71 

The Cat’s-Eye of Koli Kahn m 
















A ROMANCE OF HELLERISM. 


The series of singular and puzzling events 
which I am about to record, as faithfully as 
my memory will permit, took place but 
a few years ago, while I was yet an obscure 
and unknown dauber, whose pictures had at- 
tracted little or no attention. 

A doting and admiring aunt, with un- 
bounded confidence in my ultimate success, 
lavished upon me from her little store, and 
as she was my only near relative it was due 
entirely to her untiring generosity that I was 
enabled to study my chosen profession and 
establish myself in a modest way in the great 
metropolis. 

Taking two rooms in a quiet family board- 
ing-house, I managed to make the best of my 
surroundings, and then began that arduous 
application to labor which could only end 
when I had attained fame. 


2 A Romance of Hellerism. 


One night in early autumn, being exceed- 
ingly lonely and nerve-weary, after a steady 
all-day’s wielding of the brush, I determined 
upon, for me, a rather unusual dissipation, a 
visit to the theatre. Something to soften the 
monotony of unmitigated toil, with still no 
promise of success. So I went out into the 
more vitalizing atmosphere of the streets, and 
soon found myself strolling leisurely along in 
the direction of Broadway. 

Suddenly, as I was crossing a rather dimly 
illuminated side street, my foot came in contact 
with a small object, not a part of the accus- 
tomed asphalt, and I immediately paused to as- 
certain its character. Stooping, I held up to 
view a little red book, with shining leather- 
ette covers. I turned it over; both sides were 
plain, and it was apparently an ordinary pocket 
memorandum or diary. 

“Not much of a find!” I soliloquized half 
disgustedly. “Unless the little inner pocket 
should contain a bank-note, which isn’t at all 
likely.” Investigation further demonstrated 
the improbability of such a miracle, for the 
book contained no papers of any sort, and only 
two or three pages it appeared had been writ- 


A Romance of Hellerism. 


3 


ten upon. As it was too dark to read them 
then, I reserved the perusal of its leaves until 
I should reach the theatre. I felt my spirits 
rising mightily at the little adventure, however, 
and as I put it in my pocket I cried merrily to 
myself : 

“Who knows but it may be the property of 
some beautiful girl, whose name and address it 
no doubt contains. I can restore her lost diary, 
make her acquaintance and at the same time 
that of her family. I shall paint her 
portrait, which I can present modestly and in- 
genuously to their notice. Of course they 
will be charmed with the picture, and purchase 
it forthwith at a high figure, when my success 
will be assured. Heigh-ho ! Who dares to say 
I am not lucky?” 

I turned into the crowded and gayly lighted 
thoroughfare. Before me blazed, in myriad 
colors, the announcement of one of the leading 
vaudeville houses. It was not what I had 
originally intended to patronize, but I was 
strangely moved to enter, besides, I confess, I 
felt the immediate necessity of ascertaining 
the name and residence of the charming young 
lady who was so materially to assist my for- 


4 


A Romance of Hellerism. 


tunes. Mechanically, I went up to the ticket 
office and bought an orchestra stall, my mind 
almost wholly occupied with the near grati- 
fication of my curiosity. I could scarcely en- 
dure the slow service of the usher, and when 
at last I reached my seat it was with an almost 
trembling hand that I took out the note-book. 

The conglomeration of senseless words and 
phrases that covered the first pages gave me 
a decided shock of disappointment. So great 
was the part played by my dreams and fancies, 
in my life and emotions, at that time. These 
were the words I read : 

Speak — Let — Say — Don’t — F eign — N o w — 
Cannot — E — M — B — G — H — Q Very well — 

Look — Ho — Color — Do Material Be 

Setting What’s — the . 

That was all the book contained. Not one 
intelligible thought or sentence, not one. 

And this was the materialization of the foun- 
dation for my romantic little fiction. These 
must have been the first efforts of some for- 
eigner just learning the language. Bah! So 
intense was my disgust I was tempted to toss 
it under the seat. I felt that all genuine en- 
joyment of the evening was spoiled and I 


A Romance of Hellerism. 


5 


blamed the hateful little red note-book that 
had brought me to a vaudeville performance 
for which I had no predilection, when I might 
have witnessed something much more gratify- 
ing to my artistic tastes. 

As the curtain rose, a vocalizing soubrette, 
in an astounding costume of red, black and 
gold, strode to the centre of the foot-lights and 
began to throw off tones with a force and 
ferocity which appeared to afford her some 
degree of relief. It was with difficulty that I 
endured this agony, but I managed somehow 
to survive it, and also the following act, which 
was equally uninteresting. 

“If the next is not better, I’ll get out,” I 
promised myself, savagely, feeling bored be- 
yond all patience. The announcement of “Pro- 
fessor Trouve and Mademoiselle Eufemie, in 
their world-wide psychogmatic specialty,” af- 
forded little assurance, so I waited indifferently, 
while the people about me seemed suddenly to 
become animated, straightening and settling 
themselves, as if for greater comfort, while 
some even leaned forward excitedly. 

The two came on simultaneously, the Pro- 
fessor, a tall, dark, brilliant-eyed man, leading 


6 


A Romance of Hellerism. 


the young lady, who was childishly youthful 
and fair, to a seat in the centre of the stage. 
She was then blindfolded and faced about, 
away from the audience, and the Professor, 
voluble and smiling, came down among us, 
requesting that someone would kindly accom- 
modate him by the momentary loan of a bank- 
note. One was immediately proffered, and, iri 
reply to his question: 

“What is the value of this bill, now ?” The 
answer came immediately from the young 
lady: 

“It is a twenty-dollar bill.” 

This was correct, as was also its number, 
which was next given. Several other bills fol- 
lowed, and then the Professor called for coins, 
foreign coins, rare old coins, of any denomi- 
nation and nationality. This demand was 
gratified without delay, as a number of the 
audience seemed to have come prepared with 
coins from the most remote and obscure coun- 
tries of the globe. These were all described 
with remarkable explicitness by the fair mind- 
reading assistant; not only the dates and ap- 
pertinent country were given in every instance, 
but each accompanying inscription, with also 


A Romance of Hellerism. 7 

the translation into English. I felt myself be- 
coming interested, so complete and perfect was 
the girl’s knowledge of what the Professor 
saw and handled. How did she acquire that 
knowledge? There were no mirrors, and she 
was seated in a common cane-seated chair 
without arms. Certainly he must be able to 
tell her by the form of his question, yet re- 
peatedly I heard him use exactly the same 
words, and an entirely different answer would 
be elicited, and always the correct one. It Was 
very puzzling. 

The Professor seemed to become aware of 
my suspicions, for he suddenly said: 

“To prove to those sceptical ones who think 
that Mademoiselle Eufemie is aided in her 
conclusions by my questions, to show to them 
that the fact of my speaking, and my manner 
of speech have nothing whatever to do with 
her phenomenal ability, which is attributable 
entirely to her great psychical development, 
and the complete mental harmony between us, 
she shall describe to you articles of any char- 
acter which you may offer, and her descrip- 
tions of these articles will be limited only by 
my own knowledge, beyond which she cannot 


8 


A Romance of Hellerism. 


as yet penetrate. Not a word will be ut- 
tered by me during this entire demonstration/’ 

There was an hushed increase of attention 
at this announcement, and various objects were 
sought out and offered. A watch came first, 
and amid a silence as complete as it was im- 
pressive, the clear, confident voice of Mademoi- 
selle informed us that it was a watch, “a gold 
watch,” and after describing the case gave 
word for word the inscription, name and date 
of presentation engraved upon the inner side. 
This more than satisfied the proud owner, and 
drew much applause. A cigar-holder, several 
rings, a scarf-pin and a bracelet followed, and 
were each accurately described. 

It was very mystifying. I began to wish I 
had something to test them with; something 
out of the ordinary. I commenced hurriedly 
searching my pockets and found the little 
pocket diary, the cause of my recent annoy- 
ance and vexation. I had entirely forgotten 
it. That first page would be a fitting test. 
Like a flash I seized my moment, and beckoned 
the Professor. He approached me, smiling, 
with a trained muscular completeness, while 
his eyes surveyed me sharply. I handed him 


A Romance of Hellerism. 


9 


the book. He glanced it rapidly over, first 
outside then in, after which he straightened 
himself and stood erect and waiting. 

Mademoiselle began to speak : “It is a book, 
a little red book. I should say it was intended 
for use as a note-book and is of a size to be 
carried in the pocket. Its covers are shiny and 
new. ,, 

The Professor now held up the article to 
view, that the audience might be assured of 
the correctness of her statement. As the ap- 
plause subsided, he was about to return it to 
me, with a slight bow, but I refused to be thus 
dismissed. I was determined to receive as 
much as the others had for their money. I 
requested that the young lady read the lines 
inside, or a portion at least. He gave me a 
quick, interrogative look, but saw I was not 
to be dissuaded. 

“Very well, then,” he said, “since you are not 
satisfied. You must put the question yourself, 
though, as I cannot ask her.” 

“Will you tell me what is written inside this 
book? Read me just a little of it, please,” I 
asked in a louder tone, which could not fail 
to reach the young lady. 


10 A Romance of Hellerism. 


She gave a slight start, and seemed to hesi- 
tate a moment, then the reply came, decided 
as ever. 

“There is nothing whatever there. The 
pages are perfectly blank. It is a little joke 
of the gentleman’s.” 

As she concluded, the Professor held up the 
book, displaying each page, slowly, smilingly. 
I watched him with amazed interest. He had 
made a mistake this time. I waited breath- 
lessly. There came a burst of enthusiastic ap- 
proval from the spectators near us, which was 
handed on with vehement zest. The Professor 
acknowledged it triumphantly. 

“By Jove,” thought I, “that was a clever 
trick.” 

I reached determinate^ for the note-book, 
incensed at the lie which had been put upon 
me. I would prove myself in the right even 
at his expense. I had a temper in those days ! 
I searched the pages quickly, frantically. 
Where was that senseless lingo? I felt my 
brain gyrate dizzily. Was I going blind or 
crazy? 

The calm peremptory voice of the Profes- 


A Romance of Hellerism. 11 


sor fanned my hot perplexity like a breeze from 
the mountains. 

“Keep cool,” it murmured authoritatively 
close to my ear. “Come behind, later, and 
learn something you ought to know.” I looked 
up suddenly. The Professor was upon the 
stage; Mademoiselle, with released brows and 
sparkling eyes, stood beside him, their act was 
at an end; and bowing low with joined hands, 
they were hidden by the descending curtain. 

The words still echoed in my ears, hissing 
their appeal to my curiosity, “And learn some- 
thing you ought to know.” I fingered the note- 
book nervously. Every leaf remained intact, 
yet Mademoiselle had spoken truly. There 
was nothing whatever there. Groping absent- 
ly for my hat I rose and left the theatre. 

Mechanically, my steps turned in the direc- 
tion of the stage entrance, which was some 
distance down a side street. This I found 
and entered, with an acuteness of direction 
and execution that belied my impassive mood. 
I traversed the dimly lighted corridor and went 
up the stairs. The noise and bustle of stage 
life were all about me. A couple of girls, in 
street dress, passed me hurriedly on their way 


12 A Romance of Hellerism. 


out. Despite the aggeration of costume and 
absence of paint, I recognized them individually 
as the two that had danced in the second act 
following my entrance. I was in another barn- 
like passage, and the half open doors which I 
passed afforded convincing proof of the par- 
ticular purpose to which these rooms were de- 
voted, as well as entertaining glimpses of the 
character of their boisterous occupants. 

I began to awaken to a sense of interest, 
and the spirit of novelty and adventure once 
more possessed me. I wondered that I had 
never before been behind the scenes in a large 
theatre; but I had lived such a comparatively 
short time in the city. Truly, it was as I had 
read, a world of incongruities, and one stripped 
of all unnecessary embellishments and conven- 
tions. It was intensely interesting, no doubt, 
to the novelist, but hard on the artist’s ex- 
quisite sense of harmony in color and elabo- 
ration of detail. 

On my left I saw the name Richard Howe 
had been chalked in more than legible script, 
with the added words, “Keep out,” in red let- 
ters beneath, and just inside the doorway stood 
the great Richard himself, that mammoth 


A Romance of Hellerism. 13 


impersonator of feminine charms being laced 
resignedly into his corsets, through the com- 
bined agencies of his strong-armed valet, and a 
cooling glass of creme de menthe. I felt a 
touch on my shoulder and turned about to find 
myself face to face with the Professor, the 
first man wholly dressed I had seen. He greet- 
ed me with dignity. 

“I was expecting you,” he said. “Step in 
here.” 

I obeyed and found myself in a small dress- 
ing room, containing a trunk, a mirror, a make- 
up table and one chair. Toward this the Pro- 
fessor motioned me, hospitably, then closed the 
door. This done, he turned and surveyed me 
steadily, with a laughingly scornful, somewhat 
quizzical, expression. I returned the look 
wrathfully, my former feeling of resentment 
asserting itself. 

“So,” he said, after a short and disagreeable 
silence, “you had planned a little fun at my 
expense, had you not? A stupid enough trick 
it was too, but you no doubt thought to catch 
me. However, your little scheme did not work 
this time, and I will give you a word of ad- 
vice, right now. Never try that game again.” 


14 A Romance of Hellerism. 


He brought his clenched fist down forcibly 
upon the lid of the trunk, in a manner to ren- 
der his last injunction more emphatic. I felt 
my own ire rather subsiding beside this sudden 
display of passion, which first astonished, then 
amused me. 

“Well, Professor,” I managed to reply quite 
calmly, “allow me to say that I had neither 
scheme, trick nor game planned to your det- 
riment, and your insinuations are without 
meaning to me. Also, it seems to my mind, 
in view of the fact that you are the one who 
had fun with me, you excite and disturb your- 
self unnecessarily.” I paused an instant, but 
he only shrugged his shoulders, incredulously, 
so I went on. 

“It was you who played the trick, a very 
clever one it was, too, and one that particularly 
incensed me at the time; yet you take the 
initiative and abuse and threaten me. I can 
only say I do not understand your methods 
of reasoning.” 

“Very likely not.” His eyes glowed with a 
mocking, satirical light. He laughed coldly. 
“We are able to protect ourselves against peo- 
ple like you, however,” he remarked, with a 


A Romance of Helierism. 15 

not too flattering accent. I determined upon 
conciliatory tactics. 

“Look here, my friend,” I said, “you hold 
hardness without cause. Your act was a very 
wonderful performance, and it was only the 
merest impulse that suggested to my mind the 
presentation as a test of that nonsensical stuff.” 
Professor Trouve looked me straight in the 
eye. 

“.Where did you get that book?” he asked 
unexpectedly. 

I met his gaze and interrogation in the frank- 
est manner. 

“I picked it up on the street about two hours 
ago,” I replied. He seemed astonished. 

“You did?” he murmured perplexedly. 
“That alters matters. It is certainly very 
strange.” 

“I fail to see anything very strange about 
it, except the absurd matter it contained, and 
that has disappeared at your touch,” I hastened 
to remark. 

The Professor's eyes contracted in a specula- 
tive way. He sat down on the trunk, and 
balancing on the centre of its rotund surface, 
began swaying meditatively backwards and 


16 A Romance of Hellerism. 


forwards. After a time he spoke slowly and 
absently, his voice devoid of expression. 

“It is all right so far as you are concerned. 
I should not have said what I did, but I 
thought — ” he hesitated a second. “I thought 
you came by the book in a different way.” He 
stopped, closing his eyes briefly. He appeared 
to me to be getting very drowsy, when he 
again resumed. “Of course, this book is not 
valuable. It is the merest freak of mine, but 
I am interested in a good many things that 
do not appeal to the general public. The truth 
is, I have a craze for collecting all articles 
found in an unusual way. I will give you 
five dollars for this. Will you take it?” He 
sat erect at once, confronting me sharply, wide 
awake, and shrewdly business-like. My amaze- 
ment was unbounded, but I was prepared for 
him. 

“The only thing that could induce me to 
part with this worthless and uninteresting little 
book is that you give me a full and illustrative 
explanation of the means by which you caused 
that writing to disappear from its pages. You 
can satisfy me in part by making it reappear 


A Romance of Hellerism. 17 


just as before, though, I confess, I prefer to 
see the whole process,” I said daringly. 

“You talk like a fool,” he said. “The only 
place where any writing existed was in your 
imagination. There was not a word of writ- 
ing in the book, as I proved to both the audi- 
ence and myself. It embodies hidden psychic 
forces which affect the mind, and therefore 
might be of use to me. I offer you a ten for 
it.” 

“I think I will keep it,” I said, and rising 
deliberately opened the door. 

The Professor’s hand detained me. “Your 
address, please,” he demanded, compellingly. 
I tendered him my card, for which he thanked 
me, and then producing a piece of paper and 
a pencil scribbled the following: 

JAMES A. WATSON, 531 West Seven- 
teenth Street. 

“My name in private life,” he explained. 
“If you should change your mind about this 
little matter, Mr. Elliott, as I feel sure you 
will after due consideration, or if you should 
find yourself in any way subjected to worry 
and annoyance, because of the harboring of 
such an apparently harmless little possession, 


18 A Romance of Hellerism. 

just remember my offer, which stands open. 
Let me know and I will take it off your hands.” 
He bowed smilingly, then, as I was about to 
escape, transfixed me with a look that appalled 
me. 

“It may get on your nerves,” he suggested 
pleasantly. “In fact, I should not wonder if 
it did.” Then putting his lips close to my 
ear, he whispered coaxingly: 

“Take the money and leave the book with 
me.” 

“No use, Professor,” I answered obstinately. 
“What is worth so much to you must have con- 
siderable value for me as well. I’ll keep if 
for awhile anyway, until I find out more about 
it. Much obliged to you though; good-night.” 
His face fell with evident disappointment. 

“You will find you are mistaken,” he said 
doggedly. “It can do you no good.” And 
leaving him frowning in the doorway, I re- 
traced my steps to the street. 

I had gone but a few blocks before I half 
regretted the stubborn frame of mind which 
had fostered my reluctance to yield to the Pro- 
fessor’s persuasions and relinquish my claim 
to the apparently valueless little book. I be- 


A Romance of Hellerism. 19 

gan to feel less and less pleased with myself. 
To be sure, he had said the offer would stand, 
yet one could not be certain. It seemed so ex- 
traordinary I felt convinced he must come to 
his senses soon, and a change of mind might 
ensue at any minute. I had a strong inclina- 
tion to go back at once and tell him he could 
have it, but an indefinable something deterred 
me. Perhaps it was a slight desire to see 
Mademoiselle again, for I confess to an un- 
accountable feeling of chagrin at not having 
been allowed a single glimpse of her. Yes, 
I would wait and call. 

“She was a pretty girl, by George !” I sur- 
prised myself by saying. “And I wonder what 
relationship exists between her and the Pro- 
fessor.” 

A strong feeling of curiosity and desire to 
fathom the mysterious properties which gave 
this little, red-covered book such an inexpli- 
cable value again possessed me, and I know my 
mind was quite free from any superstitious 
feelings in regard to it, notwithstanding the 
Professor’s ominous prophecy. It was easy 
enough to see what dictated that. 


20 A Romance of Hellerism. 


“Psychic forces be hanged,” I muttered. “I 
don’t believe a word of that rot.” 

I reached my boarding-house as I spoke, 
mounting the steps and five long flights, before 
I could obtain the rest and seclusion afforded 
by my own apartments. Here I hastily lighted 
the gas and discarding my hat and coat sub- 
stituted slippers for shoes, took out a fresh 
cigarette and the queer little book. After sev- 
eral deep inhalations I stepped close to the 
light and opened the book. Very carefully I 
examined its pages, which remained blank as 
before. I had hardly known what to expect, 
but it gave me a very unedifying sensation. 
Could it be possible that, as the Professor said, 
the words had only existed in my imagination ? 
If that were the case I must be going crazy. 
I knew better. Mine was an intellect which 
would lose itself upon larger things. Those 
words had been there. I could swear to it. 
If the Professor had hypnotized me into the 
belief that I did not see them I must still be 
under his influence, and not only that, but he 
must have cast the same mesmeric spell over 
his whole audience. The problem became too 
deep for me. I examined every portion of 


A Romance of Hellerism. 21 


the book, inside and out, even prying up the 
lining of the covers with a pen-knife in search 
of some concealment, or something out of the 
ordinary, but found nothing. It was in every 
way commonplace in construction. I gave up 
in disgust at last, and realizing that I was very 
tired prepared for bed. 

Placing the little book beneath my pillow 
with my watch and revolver, I put out the 
light and awaited the slow, billowy envelop- 
ment of blessed sleep. It seemed a long time 
in coming. The events of the evening occu- 
pied my brain in puzzling conflict, until I be- 
gan to admit that I was very wakeful. Every 
sound seemed to disturb me unreasonably, and 
I tossed about in restless discomfort. The 
Professor’s words, “It may get on your nerves ; 
in fact, I should not wonder if it did,” kept 
reverting to my memory with disquieting fre- 
quency, until I felt that I was fast becoming 
the victim of a malady which I had always 
idiotically fancied confined itself to the help- 
less and timid portions of the weaker sex. 

At last I slept, but not peacefully. My slum- 
bers were disturbed by a vision in which the 
Professor, upon an immense page of immacu- 


22 A Romance of Hellerism. 


late whiteness, drew with a carmine-dipped 
brush a perfectly outlined profile of the lovely 
Mademoiselle. As he finished my admiration 
knew no bounds, and just as this feeling was 
supreme I was surprised to see him extend his 
line downward, with one bold, graceful sweep 
from the neck and begin to write. He is sign- 
ing, I thought, carelessly, and my gaze re- 
turned to the face so finely executed. With 
one last effective stroke he withdrew his brush 
from the paper and faced me, leeringly. To 
my horror, I saw, instead of the name I had 
expected, the word BLOOD in gory letters. 
I covered my face with my hands and cried 
aloud; then I awoke. 

As I reached fullest consciousness I grad- 
ually became aware that I was clasping some 
object tightly in one hand and was not greatly 
surprised at discovering it to be the little red 
note-book. The light from the moon streamed 
tranquilly into the room, serving to dispel any 
further illusions, but I sat up in bed with a 
great sigh of relief at being awake once more, 
free from that hauntingly, horrible nightmare. 
I looked at my watch. I had slept barely an 
hour, and now felt as little inclination toward 


A Romance of Hellerism. 23 

sleep as before. I arose and went to the win- 
dow, possessed by another foolish, nervous 
fancy, which I would not have admitted to 
myself even, in words. I simply acted upon 
it irrepressibly. 

Slowly, solemnly, and not without appre- 
hension, I opened the book. Perhaps I more 
than half expected to find the picture of my 
dreams and that ghastly word upon its pages. 
I gave a great start as I perceived that my an- 
ticipatory imaginings were in a measure con- 
firmed. Yes, the writing had returned, and 
was plainly decipherable in all its exasperating 
irrationality. I examined it excitedly. 

Speak — Let — Say — Don’t — Feign — Now — 
Cannot — E — M — B — G — H — Q — Very well — 
Look — Ho — Color — Do — Material — Be 
— Setting — What’s the. 

What could those words mean ? Nothing by 
themselves, I was convinced. If they had any 
signification it must be one of those enigmati- 
cal things where every second or third word 
is omitted, and the meaning thereby concealed. 
I began to experiment by supplying words. 
In this way I occupied myself with but indif- 
ferent success until daylight, then tired out and 


24 A Romance of Hellerism. 


disgusted, I lay down upon the bed and slept 
heavily far into the morning. 

I was awakened at last by a persistent pound- 
ing on my door, and jumping hurriedly up 
with a rapidly acquired sense of my own re- 
missness, I inquired the cause. 

“There’s a young lady waiting below in the 
parlor to see you, and she’s been there this half 
hour. We’ve all been knocking here by turns, 
and none of us could wake ye.” It was the 
voice of Katie, the chambermaid. 

“Who is she? What’s her name?” I shouted 
back. 

“I don’t know. She didn’t give no name. 
One of your friends you’re always talking 
about, no doubt.” And the girl laughed, de- 
lightedly. 

Wondering, meanwhile, I got into my 
clothes with as much haste as was consistent 
with a respectable toilet, tucked the trouble- 
some book in my pocket, and made a rapid 
descent of the stairs. Visions of my Aunt 
Harriet, standing calmly awaiting the appear- 
ance of her lazy, delinquent nephew, beset me, 
for I hated to be caught like this. It would 
have all the appearance of a blase dissipation. 


A Romance of Hellerism. 25 


But there were no young ladies in the habit 
of honoring me thus, so I prepared for the 
inevitable. Hastily crossing the threshold, I 
stepped inside the small reception room and 
looked around. Upon a divan in one corner 
was seated the object of my dreams — Made- 
moiselle Eufemie. 

She arose as I entered in roseate confusion 
and loveliness, and her blue eyes sought mine 
beseechingly. I saw at once she was a modest 
little thing, and my heart went out to her in 
pity for the life she seemed obliged to lead. 

“I hope you won’t think me awfully bold,” 
she said, demurely, her eyes cast down now 
beneath my, perhaps, too admiring gaze. 

“There is not the slightest danger of it,” 
I hastened to assure her. 

“Thank you, so much,” she murmured grate- 
fully; then summoning her dignity she be- 
came fairly bewitching in her excitement. 

“I came here this morning, Mr. Elliott, be- 
cause I think, in fact, I am quite sure, that I 
have made a very important discovery. Im- 
portant to you, I mean,” she supplemented. 
Then she came a step nearer. “Do you know 
that little book you have is being advertised 


26 A Romance of Hellerism. 


“Indeed, I did not. Since when?” 

“In this morning’s Herald. I do not think 
it was before. But what do you suppose? 
They offer one hundred dollars for its im- 
mediate recovery. What can it mean?” 

“What can it mean, sure enough?” I echoed 
in consternation. “Have you the paper with 
you? Do let me see it.” 

She produced the paper and showed me a 
short paragraph: 

ONE HUNDRED DOLLARS, in casE, 
will be paid to the person who returns to its 
rightful owner a small, red-covered pocket 
diary. Any book answering this description 
will not do, as we are particular, and it must 
be the one, for there is no other like it. Bring 
it before twelve o’clock to-night. After that 
time we do not want it. Come to Room 27, 

No. 912 Street. If you do not like 

our manners remember the price we pay. 

“Scott!” I ejaculated, “that is a corker. I 
shall almost feel afraid to go.” 

“Yes, it does sound rather singular, does 
it not?” Mademoiselle admitted. “But you will 


A Romance of Hellerism. 27 


go of course ?” in a tone betraying considera- 
ble interest. 

“Oh, yes, I think I shall. That is a little 
too large a sum to be disregarded. Strange in 
what demand this little book seems to be.” I 
looked at her and smiled suggestively. 

“Oh, I know all about that,” she said. “You 
mean that papa tried to buy it from you last 
night, only you wouldn’t let him have it. He 
told me of his interview with you and all about 
it. That was what has made me so much in- 
terested. I don’t blame papa a little bit,” she 
added, vindicatingly, “but this is different.” 

My heart gave a great throb of joy, and 
the word “Papa” re-echoed in rapturous eulo- 
gistic measure through my brain. I heard little 
else she had said. That was enough for me. 
Somehow I had feared a different relationship 
and I could have hugged the Professor in my 
relief and gratitude, had he been present. 

“So you are Miss Watson,” I said happily, 
still pursuing the same line of thought. 

“Of course, didn’t you know it — Geraldine,” 
she corrected naively. This seemed too charm- 
ing, and I nearly became suspicious. My mind 
reverted to the strange advertisement 


28 A Romance of Hellerism. 


“Has your father seen this?” I queried, tap- 
ping the paper. She hesitated an instant. 

“I am not quite sure, I think it possible. 
In fact, I saw him poring over the paper, 
and that was what attracted my attention.” 

“Did you speak to him about it ?” 

“No,” she confessed reluctantly. Then, 
with a sudden change of manner, she laughed 
contagiously, her eyes sparkling. “He didn’t 
know I saw him; I peeked,” she explained. 

“Then he didn’t know you came here, either, 
I take it?” She shook her head. 

“Why didn’t you tell him?” I asked, pur- 
suing the subject with interest. She was a 
study, and a bewilderingly fascinating one. 
She became embarrassed again, and I watched 
the crimson play with dazzling, intermittent 
effects upon her cheek. I was seated very near 
her now, for was not our conversation of the 
most confidential character? 

“I did not see the necessity, and I wanted 

you to know how to act in case of ” She 

stopped, then continued hurriedly : “I thought 
you ought to have the benefit of this knowledge 
right away. Oh, no, indeed. He has no idea 
where I am. He thinks I am out shopping.” 


A Romance of Hellerism. 29 


“You dear child,” I murmured, entranced. 
“And you cared all that for my welfare?” 

I took her hand gently, almost timidly. She 
was such a sweet little thing, and I was finding 
her irresistible. She did not repulse me, and 
I retained it a moment with the utmost rever- 
ence, gazing ardently upon her at loss for 
words. Just then I became aware of quick 
steps in the hall. They approached the door. 
With hardly a second’s warning the Professor 
stood before us. I dropped Miss Watson’s 
hand and tried to cover my confusion. We 
both rose instantly, and an awkward pause 
ensued before the Professor spoke. 

“So,” he said, not as angrily as I had ex- 
pected. “You thought you had outwitted me, 
didn’t you? Not so easily, my girl, not quite 
so easily.” 

Geraldine surveyed him attentively a mo- 
ment, not a particle abashed; then she smiled 
sweetly. 

“I don’t believe you knew where I was at 
all. You simply happened to come here. Upon 
the same errand that I did, no doubt,” she add- 
ed astutely. 

“And what was that ?” he asked at once. 


30 A Romance of Hellerism. 


“I came to show Mr. Elliott the advertise- 
ment. ,, Her reply came in cool, straightfor- 
ward tones. I felt its bravery. He glanced 
at me quickly. 

“You are quite right, my dear/’ he answered. 
“What philanthropists we both are,” and he 
chuckled as if he found the thought amusing. 
He swallowed his mirth in a moment, how- 
ever, and turned to me. 

“Mr. Elliott,” he began, “you may be think- 
ing me a little underhanded because of what 
happened last night— my desire to purchase the 
book, I mean, but lef^me assure you that I had 
no idea whatever of anything like this. It is 
as great a surprise to me as it must have been 
to you. I am here now, not because of any 
selfish and unfair hope of gain for myself, 
but because I realize that you need assistance 
and advice, and I know that I am the one man 
in a thousand able to give it you. Geraldine 
touched my arm. 

“That is perfectly true,” she said. 

“I don’t want anything out of this,” he 
went on, “ but I would like very much to help 
you, for it is a matter that I am greatly in- 


A Romance of Hellerism. 31 


terested in. What do you say? Two heads 
are better than one, are they not?” 

“Three, you mean,” corrected Geraldine. 
He shook his head at her severely. 

“Be still,” he urged. 

I stepped forward and gripped his hand with 
fervour. “I am delighted, Professor, delight- 
ed. I know that you can be of great assist- 
ance to me, if you will, and it is very kind of 
you to offer. This thing has bothered me 
more or less all night, and I don’t exactly like 
the look it has even now.” 

“I think you had better go well armed, by 
all means, but we can discuss those things 
later. If I am to assist you to any extent I 
must first of all examine that book.” 

Another flash of suspicion assailed me. 
Might it not be possible he would manage 
to get away with it, right before my eyes? 
I was acquainted with his ingenious ways al- 
ready. He read my thought in my evident 
hesitation, but it did not anger him; on the 
contrary, he laughed. 

“Did you think I was intending to bolt with 
it?” he asked as I handed it to him. “You 
must not distrust me so, or we shall never get 


32 A Romance of Hellerism. 


anywhere.” He re-seated himself, and hold- 
ing the book up, glanced at the outside covers. 
Geraldine and I both stole up behind him. 

“A common enough looking thing,” he said. 
“Are you both ready? Shall I open it?” 

“Wait a minute, Professor,” I said. “Of 
course, you know there is nothing inside; you 
are not expecting to find writing, are you?” 

“I don’t know what I shall find,” he said 
slowly, and impressively. “You thought you 
saw something of that sort, didn’t you? We 
never can tell without looking, so here goes,” 
— and he opened the book. 

There upon its pages were the same old 
foolish words, devoid of sense or signification. 
The Professor and Geraldine studied them 
earnestly. So absorbed were they that I re- 
frained for some moments from questioning 
them. 

“Do you make anything out of it?” I in- 
quired at last, when my patience could control 
itself no longer. They exchanged meaning 
glances. 

“Not a trace of sense there,” declared the 
Professor. “See for yourself. Can you make 
anything at all out of it?” 


A Romance of Hellerism. 33 


“Not much,” I said, laughing. “I only see 
one possible clue. If you take the first letter 
of the first word, which is Speak, that gives you 
S. Then the first letter of the second, which 
is Let, gives you L. The last two letters of the 
third word, Say, complete and spell the word 
Slay. But my rule appears to end here, for 
first letters of the next two words only give you 
D. F ” 

“Dick Flannigan, perhaps,” suggested Miss 
Watson. “Slay Dick Flannigan. How does 
that suit you? Startling, isn’t it?” She 
laughed hysterically. 

“Seems to me I have heard of something 
else those letters might stand for,” the Profes- 
sor said wickedly. He took out a small block 
and with great care copied it all down. “We’ll 
need time to study over this, I guess,” he re- 
marked. He handed me back the book. “Come 
out to lunch with me, will you ? My daughter 
has an engagement, but we can talk things 
over to better advantage without her, per- 
haps,” he added mischievously. 

I was getting very faint and hungry and ac- 
cepted the invitation with alacrity. As I left 


34 A Romance of Hellerism. 

the room to fetch my hat and coat I heard him 
say: 

“What do you think of it, Gerry ?” 

“It frightens me,” she replied, low, but dis- 
tinctly. 

“He must not be allowed to know.” Then 
I could catch no more, for I was beyond their 
voices. 

What could it all mean? They evidently 
understood it, after all. But why was I not to 
be allowed to know? A sick, shivery appre- 
hension began to creep upon me. I had already 
trusted and liked them both and now I must 
be on my guard again. I rushed into my room 
and caught up my revolver, nervously examin- 
ing all the chambers. What was the matter 
with me? Was I coward enough to be afraid 
of this one man and girl? I had felt so sure 
of her innocence and truthfulness, too. Pshaw! 
I was ashamed of myself, and seizing my 
things I ran down to the parlor with as gay and 
nonchalant an air as would have been the case 
had I not overheard those strange suggestive 
words. There my heart sank again Miss 
Watson had gone, and only the Professor 


A Romance of Hellerism. 35 


awaited me. The latter detected my length- 
ening countenance and hastened to apologize. 

“She was obliged to go at once ,” he ex- 
plained, “as she discovered she was already 
late; and besides, we both have to be at the 
theatre in a couple of hours. She was very 
sorry though, and I had to urge it.” 

I was very sorry, too. One more glimpse of 
her sweet face, yet another look into those 
frankly trusting eyes and I might possibly 
have experienced a degree of reassurance. Now 
I was doubting again, and the Professor must 
have known it, or else he had become com- 
pletely engrossed in his own thoughts and 
plans. At any rate he appeared to respect my 
mood, and we walked toward our restaurant in 
silence; sullen and gloomy it was on my part, 
too. It was not until after we were well es- 
tablished at a quiet little table and I had de- 
voured more than half of a good, juicy steak 
that we spoke. Then I felt my humor soften 
and my fears abate as I watched the Profes- 
sor’s complacent consumption of ham and 
eggs, and realized my own hunger in a meas- 
ure assuaged. The Professor ordered several 
bottles, and directly we became more sociable. 


36 A Romance of Hellerism. 


He assumed a very agreeable, confidential man- 
ner, and I felt less averse to conversation. I 
determined to make a bold move, question 
him and learn the truth, if possible. 

“Professor,” I began, “what would you 
think of a man who had overheard a remark 
or two not intended for him of a nature to 
open his eyes and convince him he was being 
drawn into a plot of some kind?” He put 
down his glass and surveyed me sharply. 

“I should say,” he replied directly, “that 
such a man was very likely to have over-esti- 
mated the detrimental import of what he heard, 
and, in fact, most likely had entirely miscon- 
strued it.” I did not answer and he pondered 
deeply a moment. 

“I think I understand you,” he said, after a 
time. “And I acknowledge I owe you some 
sort of an explanation. I should like to tell 
you everything, but that is out of the question. 
There are strong and efficient reasons why I 
cannot explain. I will be as frank as I can, 
however, for I like you, young man, and when 
I like anyone — -well, I endeavor to do the 
square thing. Men in my profession,” he re- 
sumed, “have a great deal to contend with. 


A Romance of Hellerism. 37 


More than you can possibly imagine. There 
is much to make us nervous and apprehensive 
at times, and I know now that for years I have 
lived in dread of a certain contingency. Plan- 
ning and contriving how I could best meet it, 
learning to be prepared for any emergency. I 
have attained something like fame, with justi- 
fiable pride, and like every other prominently 
successful man, have therefore many enemies. 
It was not strange, perhaps, that I should mis- 
take you for one last night. It shows how 
liable we all are to error. My first interest 
in your little book there was purely personal 
and defensive. I had jumped at conclusions, 
but it took some time to convince me I was 
wrong. The advertisement this morning has 
astonished me. It has put a different aspect 
upon everything. I still take a personal in- 
terest though, and an unfaltering one. I know 
already more than I can divulge, but I suspect 
more than I know. All depends upon our 
keeping cool, you particularly, and that was 
why we said it would be better not to tell 
you. I didn’t know how good you would be 
at acting. It is part of our daily lives, you 
know.” 


38 A Romance of Hellerism. 


“I will do my best,” I interrupted him to 
say. 

He nodded approvingly. “I don’t doubt 
you will; and if all goes well, and as I antici- 
pate, I think we shall have the pleasure of 
bringing a notorious criminal to justice.” 

“The deuce!” I exclaimed in great excite- 
ment. “You astonish me. I felt sure you 
understood it all the time, though.” 

“Not all the time,” he interposed. 

“Oh, no,” I responded, “the writing wasn’t 
there last night, I forgot that, so much has 
happened since. How do you explain that, 
Professor ?” 

“Don’t ask me,” he answered. “It had all 
the appearance of a remarkable phenomenon, 
and one not easily credited, except by eye-wit- 
nesses like ourselves. You are sure it has not 
disappeared again?” 

I took out the book hurriedly and opened 
it. It was all right, no change had taken 
place. 

“The sooner you can take that back and get 
your money the better. That is, if you can get 
the money. If you can’t you will have to come 
away without it.” 


A Romance of Hellerism. 39 


“And leave the book?” I asked in surprise. 

“Yes, and leave the book, by all means. 
Don't bring the book away on any account. 
I should say go at once, but I do not think it 
exactly safe for you to go alone. I am due 
at the theatre in half an hour. I will meet you 
at the corner of Street and Broad- 

way; that is the one nearest the theatre, un- 
less you want to come around. We will go 
straight to the address mentioned in the ad- 
vertisement, and perhaps together we can man- 
age to secure the money.” 

“Do you suppose it is really the book they 
want?” I asked, thinking suddenly of the in- 
numerable traps that had been set for the in- 
experienced and unwary. 

“Of course it is,” he answered, misunder- 
standing my question. “Doesn’t the advertise- 
ment say there is no other like it? Well, I, for 
one, can assure you there is no other like this ; 
at least, not lying around loose.” He took 
out his watch. 

“Sorry, but I have got to leave you now. 
Not a minute to spare. So long.” And with 
that he hurriedly departed. 

How I passed the intervening time I hardly 


40 A Romance of Hellerism. 


know. I existed in a whirl of speculative emo- 
tions. The hours were too short for work, 
and it seemed long and tedious to loaf, but I 
went home and spent the time in studying the 
book and doing sketches of Geraldine as she 
had looked when I first came into the parlor. 
It already seemed a week ago. When should 
I see her again? I had it. I would invite 
them both to a little supper after the theatre. 
That would be great. If I got the hundred, 
it should be, indeed. If I didn’t? Well, I 
promised myself to have them out anyway. 
And this decided, my spirits rose inordinately. 

Four o’clock arrived at last and found me at 
the corner agreed upon. The Professor was 
not in sight, so I started down the side street 
toward the stage door. Just as I came within 
sight of the entrance two people came out; a 
step further and I had recognized Geraldine, 
but not the Professor. A strange man accom- 
panied her. She did not perceive my advance- 
ment, but continued to converse animatedly, 
with the most absorbed and flattering atten- 
tion. I felt a twinge of something akin to 
jealousy as I found myself obliged to make 
known my proximity. 


A Romance of Hellerism. 41 


“Pardon me, Miss Watson/’ I said. “Can 
you tell me where your father is?” She gave 
a little start of surprise. 

“Oh, Mr. Elliott!” she exclaimed. “Papa, 
did you say ? Let me see. Oh, not far behind 
us, I presume. Allow me to introduce you to 
my friend, please. Mr. Elliott, Mr. Martin 
Mackaye.” 

We both acknowledged the introduction with 
conventional politeness, and I surveyed the 
gentleman critically. Light hair and mous- 
tache, with eye-glasses, which did not detract 
from a pair of handsome dark eyes, were en- 
hanced by a becoming silk hat, which, with 
the very stylish top-coat he wore, served to 
proclaim him a man of fashion. He had a lit- 
tle affected manner which I did not like, and 
I turned from him disdainfully. 

All at once I received a shock which almost 
upset me. 

“Good-bye, sweetheart,” were the words I 
heard him say, “Mr. Elliott and I have an ap- 
pointment which I would not miss upon any 
account.” 

In spite of a drawl, I recognized the Pro- 
fessor’s voice, and that debonair gentleman 


42 A Romance of Hellerism. 


grasped my arm just as I turned apprecia- 
tively toward him. 

“It worked with you, didn’t it?” he said, 
laughing mirthfully. 

“Well, I should say it did. Your disguise 
comes very near being perfect. How did you 
make it so effective? I never should have 
known you.” 

“I think it must be that papa is so little 
the slave of fashion usually that when he is 
well dressed it changes his whole appearance,” 
asserted Geraldine, teasingly, between bursts 
of gaiety. “I only wish you could have seen 
your own expression, Mr. Elliott. It was aw- 
fully funny.” 

“I expect it was,” I said, laughing heartily 
in turn. 

“Come,” said the Professor, adjusting his 
glasses. “We would better be moving. It is a 
long way.” 

I acquiesced reluctantly, Geraldine bade us a 
sparkling adieu, and we boarded a down-town 
car, which took us within easy walking dis- 
tance of Street. The Professor was 

in the best of moods, and appeared quite con- 
fident of success. I began to share in his jovial 


A Romance of Hellerism. 43 

feelings, and it was not until we stood before 
the door that a partial realization of the seri- 
ousness of our venture returned to me. It 
was not an attractive neighborhood, but or- 
derly enough at this hour. As we mounted 
the dingy stairs, the Professor gave me full 
directions in a few words. 

“You must go in alone, 0 he said. “Two 
might excite suspicion. I will remain out- 
side in the corridor. Get your money before 
you give up the book, and don’t stand any 
monkey business. If you need help use this,” 
and he placed in my hand a small whistle. 
“Your revolver is all right?” 

“Yes,” I whispered. I took out the little 
red book and examined it nervously for the 
last time ; then I thrust it back into my pocket. 
We had reached the fourth floor, and by a 
turn to the left found room twenty-seven. The 
Professor stepped back out of view, and com- 
manding my courage I rapped sharply on the 
door. 

“Come in,” was shouted in a somewhat pe- 
culiar voice. 

I obeyed and went in, purposely omitting 
to close the door, however, but it swung 


44 A Romance of Hellerism. 


silently to behind me on a heavy spring. I 
looked about me. The room was long and 
dark, apparently an inner room, devoid of win- 
dows. There might be some articles of fur- 
niture, but I could make out nothing distinctly. 
It was full of shadows and creepy possibil- 
ities. All light came from a partly open door 
beyond, and from here also the same voice 
called again. 

“This way, sir,” it ordered, cheerily. 

I was glad to accept the invitation and 
reached this inner door with as much haste as I 
could reconcile with an absence of fear. I 
found myself in a small, ordinary office, rather 
well furnished. Its sole occupant more than 
astonished me. I could not believe my eyes. 
At the desk in the centre sat a coal-black negro 
of the purest African type. He was enjoying 
the situation to the utmost as he slouched back 
in his chair and elevated his huge feet. I 
paused a few steps from him, undecided. 

“You got the book, boss?” he inquired, grin- 
ning in delighted appreciation of my astonish- 
ment. I must confess I felt relieved to have 
such a serio-comic turn of things present it- 
self. 


A Romance of Hellerism. 45 


“I have,” I replied. “Shall I do business 
with you? Do you represent the firm?” 

“Fm your man,” he answered with a ridic- 
ulous assumption of dignity. “Yes, you have 
to deal with me. If you’ve got the book fork 
it over.” 

“Where’s the money?” I asked, coolly. 

“Money right here,” and he held out a roll 
of bills which he took from the drawer in 
front of him. “Ten, twenty, forty,” and so 
on; there were just a hundred dollars. “Dar 
you are,” he smiled again, widely. “Now, 
lemme see the book.” 

I took it from my pocket and held it out 
before me, turning the pages so he could see 
it well. He appeared eminently satisfied, and 
chuckled audibly. 

“That thar’s the fool book, sure ’nough,” 
he croaked. “Here’s your mon.” 

He passed me the money and I gave him 
the book. It was an edifying exchange on 
both sides. I placed the money carefully with- 
in my inner vest pocket and turned to leave. 
Grinning more apishly than before, the darky 
waxed loquacious. 

“Look ahere, young man,” he said, “you 


46 A Romance of Hellerism. 


earn that thar money pretty easy. Now, done 
you go and get foolish and waste it on de first 
gal you see when you get out on de street. 
Gals is mighty poor trash anyway. You take 
the advice of a man with ’sperience and done 
you do it.” 

He roared loudly at his own witticism, and 
I laughing too, somewhat nervously, prepared 
for a hasty exit. Somehow I dreaded the long, 
dark gruesome room I must traverse to reach 
the corridor. Buttoning my coat tightly I 
banished my uncomfortable imaginings and 
stepped boldly forward into the darkness. So 
dark was it that I thought surely the negro 
must have closed the door behind me, shutting 
out all the light from the other room, but I 
could still plainly hear his gurgling laugh ring 
out. It sounded uncanny and diabolical in the 
impenetrable gloom. I grasped my revolver 
firmly and stepped quicker. I must be nearly 
half across the room, and I took courage at 
the thought. How absurd these fears would 
all seem in a minute, when I was once again 
outside. What a jolly dinner we three would 
have to-night, and how thrillingly I would 
relate 


A Romance of Hellerism. 47 


With a gasp of sudden terror I recoiled. I 
had collided with a strange dark object. A 
hot breath met mine, and I dived to one side 
and took a hurried step forward. I felt my 
body being drawn backward, pulling me with 
a force I was helpless to resist. I struck out 
wildly with my revolver, but encountered noth- 
ing; it merely cleft the air. Something was 
about my waist, my arms were being deftly 
pinioned. Truly, I was in a trap. What a 
fool I had been not to whistle when I left the 
inner room. Fool, indeed, in my egotism. I 
essayed to get the whistle to my mouth, but 
could not reach so high. The coils were 
tightening about me and I struggled in vain. 
Disconnected hands floated here and there, 
around me, even touching me, but I could dis- 
tinguish no forms. It was weirdly horrible, 
and I felt my nerves failing. Where was the 
Professor? Oh, to be out of this hole into 
the light of day once more! Yet I was being 
drawn steadily backward, away from the door. 

I tried to cry out, but could not. My tongue 
was frozen with terror. Even the darky’s 
voice had long since ceased, and the death- 
ly silence was appalling. Only the sound of 


48 A Romance of Hellerism. 


my struggling was audible, and that must soon 
be stilled. A grinning skeleton confronted me, 
ghastly beyond all words to describe. It waved 
its arms above me, then its bony hands slowly 
descended, and the long, lean fingers gradually 
closed about my throat. I thought of Geraldine 
and closed my eyes. My heart beat in great 
throbs, and I felt the end had come ; I was pow- 
erless. I could not even move. My very arms 
were numb. I was at the mercy of fiends, hu- 
man or otherwise. Oh, God ! Must I die ? 

Suddenly like a flash of heavenly inspira- 
tion, came the memory of the revolver. Thank 
God ! It was still in my hand. The fingers at 
my throat tightened their horrible grip, slowly, 
torturingly. It was enough to craze any man, 
but life came back to me with courage, and I 
pulled the trigger. Once, twice, thrice; I do 
not know how many times. I heard a rapid 
scurrying about me, and at the same instant the 
Professor burst open the door. The grip .at my 
throat relaxed, and the skeleton dissolved rap- 
idly into obscurity. With one bound the Pro- 
fessor reached me, revolver in hand. 

“A knife,” I managed to gasp. “1 am tied.” 

In an instant he had one out, and I felt its ef- 


A Romance of Hellerism. 49 


fective work, and the speedy release, as it 
flashed rapidly, here and there. He worked 
like lightning ; no man could have been quicker, 
yet the door had slowly closed. We would 
soon be in darkness again. 

“Now then, quick,” he whispered, and only 
just in time. 

I rushed frantically toward the door, and 
flinging it open, held it there. The Professor 
stood an instant, surveying the gloomy place, 
searchingly. All traces of my assailants had 
disappeared, except the ropes he had cut, a por- 
tion of one of which, he put into his pocket. 
Then still commanding the room with his re- 
volver, he backed slowly out. I started to fly. 

“Not so fast. There’s no hurry, now,” he 
said, smiling. “You have your revolver ready. 
Here — take mine, too, while I do a little work. 
Stand where they cannot see you, until the door 
is closed.” It was slowly, automatically, clos- 
ing again. 

The Professor was engaged in the strangest 
performance. He had taken the piece of rope 
from his pocket, and was knotting the ends rap- 
idly. Next he produced a good-sized screw-eye. 


50 A Romance of Hellerism. 


“I am never without them. They come in 
handy,” he remarked. 

As the door closed with a lingering, ma- 
licious reluctance, he deftly twisted the rope 
about the knob, then piercing the centre of the 
knot with the screw-eye, fixed it firmly in the 
wooden casement, slightly above the knob, thus 
fastening the rope securely. 

“I think that will hold, for a short time, at 
least, and as we care nothing for the company 
of your friends in there, we may as well detain 
them a few minutes. Now come on, and let’s 
get out of here as quickly as we can.” 

I did not need to be urged, and we descended 
the stairs, quietly, but swiftly, and without pur- 
suit. 

“I fancy it would take them a minute or two 
to be ready, even if I had not observed the little 
precaution I did. But first of all: you are 
not hurt, are you?” 

“No,” I answered thankfully. “Not hurt at 
all, only frightened.” 

“That is good, and have you got the money?” 
I felt hastily in my pocket ; it was still there. 

“I believe I have.” 

“Well, you’re a lucky man, and I congratu- 


A Romance of Hellerism. 51 


late you. You have come off better than I 
really expected.” 

We were on the street by this time, and the 
Professor chose a different, and less direct route 
for our return up town. 

“I do not think they will try to track us, for 
several reasons, but if they do, we will give 
them all the trouble we can,” he said thought- 
fully. 

He said little more after this, but seemed to 
be engaged in pondering something deeply, and 
as for me, I did not feel inclined to talk it over, 
so our trip back, even after we took the ele- 
vated, was, although successful, very quiet, and 
nearly devoid of conversation. He prepared to 
leave me at Forty-second Street. 

“I have a great deal to do now. You would 
better go home, and take a bracer, or a little 
rest,” was his advice. “You look done up ; and 
I am depending on the pleasure of having your 
company at a little affair this evening. Late 
it is, too, so you had better get some sleep, if 
you can.” 

“But, Professor,” I expostulated, “I can’t 
have you getting ahead of me this time. I have 
planned to have you and Miss Geraldine dine 


52 A Romance of Hellerism. 


with me to-night. You will do me that honor, 
will you not?” 

“On one condition,” he responded. “That 
you accompany me on my little excursion first. 
My invitation preceded yours, you know.” 

“Yes, I admit it; and I will go gladly. You 
know that, Professor. I could not well refuse, 
after the service you have done me, just now. 
Does Miss Watson go too?” I inquired, eagerly. 

“Not with my approval, but she has insisted, 
so in spite of all my opposition, I expect she 
will be there. Meet us at twelve-thirty, sharp, 
at Eighty-ninth Street and Broadway.” 

“I will not fail to be on hand,” I promised, 
and we parted. 

I arrived at my station and walked home. I 
was glad to find it was dinner time, for I was 
hungry, and tired. My mind was in a maze at 
all that had happened, and was yet to come; 
but I had refrained from questioning the Pro- 
fessor. I trusted him now thoroughly, and felt 
assured his purpose would be explained to me 
in good time. I had not liked him at first, but 
now that I could distinguish the real man from 
the actor, I acknowledged a change of senti- 
ment. Dinner over, I went up to my rooms and 


A Romance of Hellerism. 53 


lay down on the couch. Here I smoked, 
dreamed and speculated, fingering my newly 
acquired wealth, at intervals, just to assure my- 
self that it was real. After a time I fell asleep. 

I jumped up, hurriedly, and pulled out my 
watch. It was twenty minutes after twelve. I 
caught up my hat and coat and flew. As good 
luck would have it, I caught a car, just as I 
reached the corner, and arrived at my destina- 
tion only seven minutes late, after all. I 
crossed the street, but did not find them, then 
I perceived two figures coming toward me. 
They were a man and a boy. Could it be pos- 
sible? Yes; that was the Professor, undis- 
guised this time, and the boy was, unmistaka- 
bly and blushingly, Geraldine. She was be- 
witching in the costume and her confusion. 

“Papa said it was the only way for me to 
come, and I just had to come. I would not miss 
it for worlds ; a real live adventure like this is.” 

“Is it?” I asked quickly. “I did not know 
just what it was.” 

“Well, yes,” said the Professor, “I rather 
think we may safely style it that. I want you 
to know that she was afraid at first, and we 
may have trouble with her later, but now she is 


54 A Romance of Hellerism. 


all nerved up to it.” We were walking rapidly 
along. 

“Have we far to go?” I asked. 

“Not very,” he replied. “We had best be 
rather quiet now, and avoid attracting atten- 
tion. I will go ahead, and you and Geraldine 
follow, but not too closely.” 

This suited me perfectly. I was quite con- 
tent to follow the Professor, and we contrived 
to keep him just in sight. I had much to say to 
Geraldine, and I found her soft chatter de- 
lightful. I felt sure it could never tire me, 
never become stupid or tedious. She told me 
of her life upon the stage, how little she en- 
joyed it, and their way of living. Poor girl! 
she had no mother. Suddenly I realized that 
the Professor had paused, and was signalling 
us to come up. We advanced quickly to where 
he stood awaiting us in the darkest portion of 
the block. 

“You remain here a minute,” he whispered, 
selecting the deepest shade, and pushing us 
into it, “while I make a few explorations. Don’t 
talk, either of you. I will be back shortly.” 

Silent and impressed, like statues, we waited, 
feeling the near approach of some novel and 


A Romance of Hellerism. 55 


hazardous experience. But it was happiness 
enough to be by her side, whether we talked or 
not. I could see those dear eyes, look into 
their depths occasionally, and learn more of 
the charm and beauty of soul which lay envel- 
oped in the personality of their owner. 

The Professor approached, and we watched 
him breathlessly, in our eagerness to learn the 
next move. 

“Come now,” he said, softly. “Do just 
what I tell you, and don’t get nervous,” (this 
last to Geraldine), “and above all, don’t make a 
noise. Have your revolver handy.” 

We followed stealthily, making the partial 
detour of a handsome brown-stone house, 
which stood a trifle removed from the others, 
and on the corner. All was dark and silent 
about us, only an occasional light gleamed, here 
and there, further down the street. 

“The neighborhood seems very quiet,” re- 
marked the Professor, softly. Then turning to 
Geraldine, he said: “You see that little yard, 
with the tree, over there, beside those steps?” 
She nodded. 

“Well, you go over there, and get behind it. 
It's the only place I see for you that is safe,” 


56 A Romance of HeHerism. 


She departed without a word, and I watched 
her, with mingled admiration and regret. She 
made a fine boy, but it would never do for any- 
one to see those dainty little feet. 

“There is a place for us, right here,” he said. 
“Can you climb ?” I admitted the belief that I 
could. 

“Prove it by scaling this fence, then.” I ac- 
complished it without much trouble, and the 
Professor followed me with great agility. 

“Drop down on your hands and knees, and 
crawl to that big bush yonder.” 

I did as I was bid, and grovellingly wriggled 
in the direction indicated, until I reached the 
welcome seclusion it afforded. In a few min- 
utes the Professor joined me, though it had 
seemed so long I feared he was not coming. I 
was about to ask him what we were there for, 
when he held up a warning finger. 

“Hush,” he breathed guardedly, “what is 
that?” 

I listened intently. The sound of footsteps 
reached my ears. They grew gradually nearer. 
The figures of two men appeared, coming 
slowly and carelessly. From their actions they 
might be intoxicated, they approached so hesi- 


A Romance of Hellerism. 57 


tantly, with erratic steps. They were nearly 
opposite us outside the fence, when they both 
stopped, and one leaned heavily against it, as if 
completely overcome. 

“ ‘Loaded/ both of them/’ I thought, but I 
was quite wrong. 

The next instant, his companion had cleared 
the fence, in a gigantic vault, and was coming 
directly toward our bush. The Professor's 
hand steadied and helped me to move a foot or 
two toward the right, as we discovered his di- 
rection to be the opposite. He passed uncom- 
fortably near us, however, and I was sure I 
could have touched him, but I did not try. I 
thought how poor Geraldine must feel, watch- 
ing alone, across the street, and I wished I were 
with her, just to comfort and cheer her. The 
man paused, close to the house, looking up, 
thoughtfully. He presented a slight figure of 
medium height, with hat drawn well over the 
eyes, and he carried a heavy cane in one hand. 
He did not waste many minutes. 

Raising the cane, he adjusted it noiselessly, 
with a pull here and there. It grew in length, 
and put out arms, until, before our wondering 
eyes, was developed a very unique and service* 


58 A Romance of Hellerism. 


able ladder. Up this he went like an acrobat, 
to the first window above, here he stopped and 
drew up the ladder carefully. Raising it in the 
air, he caught it on the sill of the one over it, 
and testing it quickly, ascended as rapidly as 
before. Here came another slight delay, and a 
faintly audible scraping sound reached us. 
This did not occupy him long, though, and 
stooping cautiously, stealthily, he vanished 
from our view. The man outside leaned indif- 
fently against the railing, but I could see his 
head move occasionally, as he kept a sharp look- 
out, up and down the street. 

The Professor gripped my arm. “Listen,” 
he breathed. “When he comes down, we must 
nab them both. I believe it is the only way. 
You take the other, and V 11 take this. Crawl 
along in the shadow, while he watches the 
street, and doiTt disclose yourself until you have 
him. Now’s your time, before he begins to 
look this way.” 

It was a ticklish undertaking, but I did not 
hesitate. Fairly holding my breath, I crept 
noiselessly toward the man outside. I had 
gained about my length before he glanced 
around. I lay still as death, he only looked 


A Romance of Hellerism. 59 


above me and then away, and I was safe, for 
the time. 

I took immediate advantage of it, and less- 
ened the yards between us by a few more feet. 
I paused for breath, my heart was beating 
loudly. It seemed almost as if he must hear it. 
Again the man turned, gazing anxiously at the 
window, evidently without satisfaction, for he 
again resumed his watch. I endeavored to rea- 
son rapidly. I must be close upon him before 
he turned again. At any instant his companion 
might appear and discover me from above. 
This thought in mind, I crept slowly, painfully 
forward, once more. Should I be able to reach 
him at the right time? If I only dared look 
behind me! I could restrain myself no longer, 
but risked all in one quick, backward glance. 

Everything was quiet, and apparently not a 
movement disturbed the tranquillity of the 
slumbering shadows. But there at the window 
making ready to descend, stood the man, and 
by what trick of the imagination, I could not 
tell, yet he seemed much taller, more formida- 
ble, and of entirely different appearance. What 
could it mean? My experience of the after- 
noon must have unnerved me. I could not 


60 A Romance of Hellerism. 


withdraw my fascinated eyes, but watched 
him come down the ladder, and then suddenly 
the mystery was explained. Another man ap- 
peared above at the window. 

He looked down searchingly upon the scene 
before him. Yes. He was the man who had 
gone up. And then, with one final thump, my 
heart seemed to cease its beating and stand 
still, for he was looking straight at the spot 
where I was. I did not move a hair’s breadth, 
but surely he would see me. Would he be rash 
enough to fire, or would he indicate my pres- 
ence to his friend outside ? He gave a low, be- 
traying whistle, and I felt the overwhelming 
certainty of discovery, and defeat. I dared not 
look around ; it would be madness to move, and 
what I endured during those few seconds of 
suspense can only be imagined. Then the 
whistle was returned as softly, wafted close by 
my ears, and, oh, so gratefully different from 
the hissing, zipping sound I had more than half 
expected. 

The man at the window turned quickly and* 
began to descend. The other waited on the sill 
of the window below. It was an exciting mo- 
ment, and I knew- 1 had no time to waste. I 


A Romance of Hellerism. 61 

gave one glance at the man on guard. He was 
attending to duty. I turned instantly, and be- 
gan crawling back as fast as my half benumbed 
limbs would allow. If I had good luck, I might 
reach the spot in time. Every second seemed 
an age, and they came down so rapidly. That 
there were two of them was in my favor. I 
could now see the Professor, and he, with his 
quick penetration discovered us. 

He waved me on with a quick, forcible, ap- 
proving gesture. “Hurry,” he seemed to urge, 
yet he himself did not move. 

“God !” Did he intend for me to tackle two 
men alone? It was preposterous, outrageous. 

I glanced at him again. No: he had not 
moved a step, he was not coming to help me, 
but I would prove myself no coward, and I 
crept on, unfalteringly. The men were already 
making the final descent, and with celerity. I 
made frantic haste and reached the foot of the 
ladder, not a second too soon. Man Number 
One was not three rungs from the ground. 
He loomed large and powerful above me. 

Breathlessly, carefully, I raised myself and 
stood erect. I was ready for him. Before his 
feet could fairly touch the ground I grasped his 


62 A Romance of Hellerism. 


arm, and like a flash thrust my revolver before 
his astonished eyes. He threw up his hands. 
The same instant, I was aware of a sharp 
whirring sound overhead, a gurgling oath 
reached my ears, then with a sound of muffled 
bumping, Man Number Two shot down upon 
us, knocking my already terrified prisoner to 
the ground, where he fell heavily and sprawl- 
ingly upon him, a writhing mass of obstreper- 
ous profanity. I stood over them both, while 
the Professor came slowly up, holding some- 
thing in his hand, which he seemed to be pull- 
ing in as he advanced, giving it, now and again, 
an extra jerk. It was a small rope, about the 
size of a clothes-line, and I now plainly saw 
it was attached to the neck of Man Number 
Two. By Jove! He must have lassoed him, 
and pulled him down. 

The Professor blew a long, shrill whistle. It 
served to awaken me from my immediate ab- 
sorption, and to a sense of further possibilities. 

“The man outside !” I suddenly cried. 

“He’s all right, I guess,” he answered, calmly 
disarming our two friends, and securing their 
hands, with my help. “Look there, if you don’t 
think so,” he added. 


A Romance of Hellerism. 63 


I looked in the direction of the fence, and 
saw a sight that filled me with admiration and 
alarm. “The Man Outside” was on top of the 
railing, and there he stayed, “held up” by that 
plucky little darling, Geraldine, who supported 
a pistol at the back of his neck. I lost no time 
in reaching them, and relieving her from her 
dangerous post. He offered no defense, though 
once I thought he was going to shoot, but the 
pressure of cold steel was too much for him, 
and he changed his mind, and came down meek- 
ly at my order, upon the inside. 

“Run away, please,” I called to Geraldine, as 
the Professor and his two prisoners advanced 
in our direction. He was talking cheerily. 

“Yes, Tom Farnum, you rascal,” he said. 
“I owed you one, and I was bound to pay it. 
Now you’re in for it at last, and I’m glad of it, 
for it’s what you richly deserve.” 

So he knew them, then. I looked at them 
both with interest, as they emerged from the 
shadow into partial light. Then with a start of 
amazement, I also recognized an acquaintance. 
The larger man and the man whom I had 
tackled was my colored friend of the afternoon. 
Before I could recover from the shock of this 


64 A Romance of Hellerism. 


discovery, I heard rapid steps and voices, and 
we were joined almost immediately by two big, 
burly policemen, who came up, puffing and 
blowing from their exertions. 

“Old chums, you perceive, ,, the Professor 
said to me, pointing with pride to his captives. 
“Tom Farnum, Jim Clark, and Abe Johnson/’ 
indicating the negro, “former theatrical celebri- 
ties, all of them, and it was to their distin- 
guished efforts, that you owe your afternoon’s 
highly dramatic entertainment.” He handed 
them over to the police as he spoke, and it was 
with great satisfaction that I watched their en- 
forced departure, sullen and threatening in their 
mien, prisoners at last, to whom the law would 
have considerable to say. 

Before we started on our little walk to the 
nearest station, I ran back and secured the cane- 
ladder, which I still preserve as an interesting 
trophy. As we fell into line we formed quite a 
procession, and Miss Watson and I brought up 
the rear, but kept a little distance behind, for I 
did not wish any of them to see her too well. 
The Professor and officers were talking ani- 
matedly, and my curiosity being now in a lively 
state of impatience, I questioned Geraldine un- 


A Romance of Hellerism. 65 


tiringly, until I had extracted the whole story, 
But the dear girl was very nice about it, for I 
know she trusted me, and her confidence cer- 
tainly proved it. 

“It was in the Second Sight Code/’ she whis- 
pered, referring to the writing in the little red 
book. “And papa guards that as he would his 
life. It is known to very few people, only pro- 
fessionals, students of the great Robert Heller, 
whose invention it was ; and our whole future 
success depends upon its not becoming known. 
That was why he tried to buy the book in the 
first place, before he had seen enough to more 
than recognize the Code.” 

“What did it mean?” I asked eagerly. It 
was all so wonderful, now. 

“It said” — Geraldine took a bit of paper from 
her purse, and read it beneath the street light 
we were passing: “Twelve hundred and four- 
teen East Ninety-third Street, Thursday, be- 
tween one and two, A.M. Brownstone house. 
Third window left from rear. Second floor. 
Diamonds.” 

“DIAMONDS?” I gasped. 

“Yes,” answered Geraldine. “Papa says that 
this gang is under the direction of a sort of 


66 A Romance of Hellerism. 


leader, Hermon Haines, he used to be called, 
and he was with papa on the stage about twelve 
years ago. He is here, and there, and every- 
where, playing the gentleman and the spy, and 
obtaining the knowledge necessary for his per- 
petrations with an ease that is marvelous. 
Then he moves away to another field, leaving 
his orders to be fulfilled by his underling com- 
rades. That all his communications are writ- 
ten in the Second Sight language, we are now 
assured, and it is probable he sends them by 
the negro, who at times acts as a servant to 
him. Some careless creature like that must have 
dropped the book, and of course he wouldn’t 
know what was in it, so they were in a fix. 
They just had to have it right away. The time 
they must have got hold of, but not the place, 
so they were completely helpless without the ad- 
dress and particulars, and offered the hundred, 
which they never intended anyone should really 
succeed in getting away with.” 

“I should think not,” I exclaimed, breathless- 
ly. “I had a hard enough time doing so.” 

“Oh,” replied Geraldine, with quick sym- 
pathy. “With their knowledge of stage trick- 
ery, they must have been perfectly capable of 


A Romance of Hellerism. 67 


frightening a man out of his senses. I only 
wonder you escaped with yours.” 

We reached the station shortly after this, 
and there we had the pleasure of seeing the Pro- 
fessor’s former associates, Tom Farnum and 
Abe Johnson, divested of more than fifty thou- 
sand dollars’ worth of jewels. These were the 
property of Mrs. Clifford Crowinstall, a lady 
whom we all met later on, and who displayed 
her gratitude to us in many appreciable ways. 
To her I sold my picture, “Evening Shadows,” 
which has since attracted so much attention, 
and afterwards, “Autumn Twilight,” found a 
ready purchaser in this same kind patroness. 
But I am anticipating. 

We supped at last, a weary, happy trio, at a 
little Italian restaurant, about three o’clock, but 
long before that time I was engaged to Gerald- 
ine. 

“One thing more, Professor,” I said, “I want 
you to tell me what made that writing appear 
and disappear the way it did, causing me so 
much consternation?” The Professor smiled, 
in a patronizing, fatherly way. 

“I have a great mind not to tell you, and 
yet I suppose Geraldine would if I did not.” 


68 A Romance of Hellerism. 


He sighed slightly, and I saw he was disposed 
to yield. “Of course you did not know that I 
was interested in chemistry,” he observed, after 
a time. “In fact, it has been with me so deep a 
study, that I have pursued it day and night for 
years, during spare moments. That effect was 
the result of one of my discoveries. There would 
be great money in it for some people. You can 
see how it might be used, if I could get it per- 
fected — make a permanent thing of it, you 
know, as I expect to sooner or later. Now it is 
useful in many ways to me in public, and has al- 
ready gained me great notoriety as a skilled 
necromancer and hypnotist.” 

“What puzzles me most,” said Geraldine, “is 
where the colored man came from. Only one 
man went up, yet two came down.” 

“I think,” said the Professor, “that he en- 
tered the house some time earlier, in time to be 
on hand and give the signal, if all was not pro- 
pitious, and probably he went in through the 
cold air pipe to the furnace — at least, that is my 
opinion.” 

This incredible surmise actually proved to 
have been the case, for it was corroborated at 
the trial by the negro's testimony. The ac- 


A Romance of Hellerism. 


69 


cumulation of offences these three were accused 
of fully justified the sentence they finally re- 
ceived, which was for twenty years’ hard labor. 

It became a subject of much speculation to 
the officials and detectives of the police depart- 
ment, how the Professor had managed to as- 
certain the whereabouts and movements of the 
rogues sufficiently to trap them as he did, when 
they had so boldly defied and evaded the most 
vigilant and persistent efforts of the law. They 
questioned him again and again, but he re- 
mained very reticent. 

“I get on to a good many things in my pro- 
fession,” was all the satisfaction they could ever 
obtain from him. 

Geraldine, sweet, pitying angel, often sighs 
for the sins and retribution of the wicked, but 
she invariably adds with her next breath : “But 
where would our love and happiness be now, 
darling, had there been no little red book?” 
Then I take her in my arms and kiss her, for 
she is the dearest, prettiest, most devoted little 
wife that ever a man had. 



i 


LA CASA NEGRA. 


It was situated in the liveliest part of town, 
on the most aristocratic street. The residence 
of El Capitan del Puerto stood at the left, while 
the two-storied structure occupied by Dr. Chris- 
topher, the American consul, rose pompously 
at the right. I say pompously, for among the 
low, white-washed, tile-roofed houses of Hu- 
acas, this slight suggestion of American archi- 
tecture, a more advanced style of civilization, 
was nearly as great a contrast as the black 
house itself, whose sombre walls threw deep 
shadows, and whose entire aspect betokened 
mystery. 

Mr. Ernest Crocker, with true Yankee am- 
bition, which no amount of climate can wholly 
dissipate, was walking briskly, but paused 
abruptly opposite its black front, with an ejac- 
ulation of surprise and incredulity. 

“Well, this beats all for oddity, I must say ! 
Strange, I did not see it last evening — but 
71 


72 


La Casa Negra. 

not so strange either. You can’t expect a color 
like that to show up much on a cloudy night, 
with the few lights they have in this heathen- 
ish country. Gad ! It looks haunted, — I won- 
der if it is. I’ll go into the consulate at once 
and find out all about it. It is tremendously 
interesting. Almost as much so as La Seno- 
rita Regina. ” He ran lightly up the steps, 
pausing an instant in the open doorway, where 
he was immediately observed and admitted by 
Emilio, the boy servant, who, anxious to save 
them the trouble of ringing, was on the stairs 
in the hall, awaiting the advent of both pa- 
tients and guests. 

The consul, or Doctor Cristobal, as he was 
called by his friends and neighbors, was a 
physician; a graduate, he claimed, of a small 
college in a very rural state, in the “Estados 
Unidos.” Nevertheless, his professional ability 
seemed unquestioned, and he enjoyed a fair 
practice, which added most effectively to the 
not too heavy income derived from his con- 
sular fees and salary. He came across the 
hall, as Emilio ushered young Crocker into 
the “sala,” and though evidently about to go 
out, hastened forward and greeted the young 


73 


La Casa Negra. 

man effusively. Rather short, thick-set, and 
very blonde was the doctor, in direct contrast 
to the younger, dark-haired, dark-eyed man 
who stood before him, tall and broad-shoul- 
dered. 

Ernest Crocker was a good-looking fellow, 
with a very hearty, attractive manner, con- 
siderable boyish enthusiasm, and not a little 
self-confidence, which his Harvard education, 
and the moneyed set with whom he associated, 
had served to encourage. With no especial 
incentive, except the desire to distinguish him- 
self, he had studied medicine and worked hard, 
much to his father’s delight; but becoming 
thoroughly tired out at the completion of the 
course, he had followed the advice of both 
family and friends, and sought the rest and 
diversion afforded by an ocean voyage to South 
America. 

Starting from New York with his chum, 
Howard Anthony, the two had visited port af- 
ter port, as pleased their fancy. They had 
journeyed down the eastern coast, rounded 
the Horn, and then travelled northward until 
they reached Lima, where Howard had been 
called home, only the week before, by the seri- 


74 


La Casa Negra. 

ous illness of his mother. Ernest would have 
accompanied him, but he had promised his 
father he would visit his old friend, John 
Christopher, which he was doubly determined 
to do since meeting Regina Christopher at a 
dance given by La Senora Fernandez in Lima. 
He insisted she was the most bewitching and 
attractive girl he had ever met. 

Arriving the night before in Huacas, he had 
hastened to make himself known at the doc- 
tor’s. His welcome was most cordial and 
gratifying; the Senora urged him to change his 
abode, and he accepted the invitation with alac- 
rity. The hotel was very badly kept, he was 
delighted at the prospect of a better acquaint- 
ance with Regina, and now this singular 
looking residence next door, seemed to afford 
every prospect of combining mystery with ro- 
mance. 

The doctor excused himself and gave his 
guest over to Emilio, making many apolo- 
gies for the Senora and Regina, who were both 
taking a siesta, but would be visible in half an 
Hour. 

“You must make yourself perfectly at home, 
ray boy, and as we say in Spanish, The house 


75 


La Casa Negra. 

and all it contains is yours/ You will find ci- 
gars on the table in my study. If it were not 
for this confounded case of viruela ! I will be 
back soon, however. Hasta luego,” and he 
disappeared. 

Left to himself, Ernest decided to go at 
once to his room, and followed Emilio up- 
stairs. After traversing several short corri- 
dors, to his great delight he was shown into 
a room on the left side of the house, which he 
immediately concluded must command a view 
of their eccentric neighbor. A hurried glance 
corroborated this opinion, but it disappointed 
him, for Peruvian houses are built about a 
court in such a manner as to necessitate no win- 
dows, and only a bare stretch of dingy, vine- 
covered wall presented itself at the side, while 
a view of the extensive patio was almost en- 
tirely excluded by the rank growth of shrubs 
and flowers, which filled and overran it. 

“Can you tell me who lives there?” he asked 
in Spanish, of Emilio, who spoke no English. 

“La Dona Josefina Sanchez, sir,” answered 
the boy. “But,” he added, almost in a whis- 
per, “it is not a good house. It is not well 
even to talk of it. It might bring us harm.” 


76 


La Casa Negra. 

“Can't you tell me why it is painted black, 
like that?" insisted Ernest. “I never saw a 
house that color in America." 

“Oh, Senor, it is the work of el diablo. 
(The devil.) Es maldito, y castigo de Dios." 
(It is accursed, a judgment of God.) 

“But why is it accursed, and who painted 
it black? Has the young lady who lives there 
a preference for that shade ? She must be very 
sober-minded." 

“It is true, as I said it, Senor. It is the 
work only of the devil, and we do well to shun 
him, and all within his power. If there is any- 
thing the Senor would like, I will bring it," 
added the boy, evidently relieved to close the 
conversation, and anxious to retire. 

“No, Emilio, thank you. You may go. If 
I want anything I will let you know." 

Left alone, Ernest surveyed the cool, com- 
fortable room, which was large, and attractive- 
ly furnished. His trunks, which had been sent 
up, were arranged to his satisfaction, after 
which he changed his raiment, with visions of 
Regina in his mind ; and then, with one linger- 
ing glance at the house which had so excited 


La Casa Negra. 77 

his interest and appealed to his curiosity, de- 
scended to the doctor’s study. 

The study was fitted up in true American 
style, and making himself extremely comfort- 
able in a large Morris chair, Ernest prepared 
to enjoy a good cigar. “Certainly,” he mused, 
“this is luxury. I don’t know but I shall want 
to stay a month. As I told the Senora last 
evening, she may regret her unrestricted form 
of invitation, for she may have trouble to get 
rid of me. If Regina ” His further so- 

liloquies were interrupted by a slight rap on 
the door, and the young lady herself appeared. 
She was indeed pretty enough to justify Er- 
nest’s admiration, with the wonderful dark 
eyes of her mother’s race, and hair blonde and 
golden as the doctor’s beard had been in his 
youth. A good nose, although a trifle sugges- 
tive of Indian ancestry, and the most bewitch- 
ing little mouth imaginable. Complexion of 
transparent olive, through which the rose tints 
shone in ever varying intensity, and a figure 
whose every curve was satisfying. Her dress 
was of thin white, accentuated in effect by the 
yellow sash she wore in Spanish fashion, and 
the gold beads about her neck. 


78 


La Casa Negra. 

“Esta aqui el Senor Crocker,” she said. 
“Emilio told me you were here, so I came 
quickly. Madre mia is not dressed so soon as 
I. She knows you will excuse. Oh, but do 
not esstop the smoke, it is offensive to me not 
at all.” 

“I am so glad you have come,” said Ernest, 
drawing a chair close beside his own. “I 
should have been awfully lonely in a minute, 
and it was very kind of you to take pity on 
me.” 

“Telia me of los Estados Unidos,” she said, 
disregarding the proffered chair, and slipping 
across the room, where she seated herself in 
graceful, indolent fashion. “I love so much to 
hear. It is so different from Peru, papa says, 
always. Do you think it is mucha different, 
Mr. Crocker?” 

Ernest drew a few appreciative and remi- 
niscent puffs, before he answered. “I am afraid 
I must agree with the doctor. Yes: it is very 
much different. Our climate, education, re- 
ligion, everything, tends to make our lives, 
both socially and politically, entirely dissimi- 
lar.” 

“Telia me about your young ladies,” she 


79 


La Casa Negra. 

interrupted, “they do so much that girls here 
are not permitted. I wanted always to go to 
New York; my brother Eduardo is there now, 
in es-school, but Madre mia, and el Padre To- 
maso did not approve.” 

“Our young ladies ?” Ernest arose and drew 
his chair nearer the low divan upon which his 
charming interrogator was seated. “The 
American girl, as we call her, has been much 
admired ; had more than her share, I think, of 
both freedom and admiration, and yet she is 
not one-half so lovely, in fact, she doesn’t be- 
gin to compare with the South American girl, 
Miss Regina. Not unless my eyes deceive me, 
and my memory plays me false,” he added, 
with increasing boldness. 

“Oh, Mr. Crocker, you must nota lie. That 
is vera wrong,” exclaimed Regina, blushing 
vividly at the bare-faced compliment, and em- 
barrassed by his proximity. “Let us go out 
on the balcony, it is so cool and nice,” and she 
led the way to a pleasant little veranda, over- 
looking the street. 

“Delighted,” murmured Ernest, following 
closely; “but, really, Miss Regina, when you 
remember what dear friends your father and 


80 


on 


La Casa Negra. 

mind used to be, it seems strange you have so 
little faith in my veracity. It is cool and love- 
ly out here, though, and I forgive you on one 
condition. I want to know all about that 
strange house next door. Who painted it 
black, and is it haunted, or what is the mys- 
tery? Emilio would tell me nothing, but said 
it was the work of el diablo.” 

“Si ; he is right,” she said. “It is the work 
of el diablo, or if not, no one knows. It is 
accursed; Madre mia says so, but papa does 
not believe. That is the differencia. It is 
‘maldito’; for do not all die who live there? 
All except probre Doha Josefina, she lives still, 
but for how long, quien sabe? Ah, here is 
mamacita, she can tell mucha better than me.” 

The next moment the Senora came out up- 
on the balcony. She was dark, and graceful 
of carriage, and looked very young and hand- 
some, in direct contradiction to the common be- 
lief that a Spanish woman grows old and loses 
her beauty at thirty, or earlier. Ernest has- 
tened to place a chair, and Regina to explain 
what had been the subject of their conversa- 
tion. 

“I did not notice it last night,” said Ernest, 


81 


La Casa Negra. 

“but this afternoon I was perfectly astonished, 
and couldn’t believe I saw straight. Thought 
I must have a sudden attack of color blind- 
ness. And I am awfully anxious to hear more 
about it. Miss Regina has just told me that 
every one dies who lives there. I should think 
they would move away.” 

“Ah, but it is the curse; from that there is 
escape never. It would do no good. No es pos- 
sible run froma God. I will tella you the story, 
Don Ernesto, and you will believe for your- 
self,” and with a becoming distribution of her 
black lace draperies, the Senora began: 

“La familia de Sanchez es muy rica. One 
very richa family. Six years ago we have no 
family entertain so fine, so much. Always 
plenta company, stay one day, one month, it 
is the same. Danzar todo el tiempo — alia the 
time. And la Dona Mercedes so gay, so vera 
handsome. Oh, the most beautiful dresses sent 
froma Paris, and the jewels of the Senora, so 
esplendid, tan magnifico, there are no others 
to compare. Don Pedro, her husband, is vera 
fine also, muy galante, vera proud. They have 
two daughters, las Senoritas Isabel and Jose- 
fina, botha girls vera pretty, vera much ad- 


82 




La Casa Negra. 

mired. They have so many friends, always 
the besta people, and Isabel is already despo- 
sado (you say engaged, no?) a Don Jose An- 
tonio de la Rosa. She is eighteen only, and 
Josefina is sixteen, when this happen, and both 
families are much pleased. It is a good matcha 
for both. Don Jose is de very noble family, 
but la familia de Sanchez hava the more 
wealth. 

“We living in this house but little time 
then, one night they giva grande ball, y el 
Doctor Cristobal and I atendar. It is to an- 
nounce the coming marriage of Isabel and Don 
Jose, and so many people are invited. The 
house is vera esplendid en todo parte ; the lights 
of the patio, que showa the flowers, the paint- 
ings, the fountains so beautiful, so many, the 
music lika the most perfect dream, and the 
dance hall in crimson and gold, with all the 
people dressa so rich, is one picture I shall for- 
geta never. Dona Mercedes is so charming 
hostess, and Don Pedro vera nice, yet he seem 
to me nota the same, un poco distraido — a lit- 
tle absent in the mind. Isabel and Don Jose 
look vera handsome and happy, and every one 
has hasten to congratulate. Josefina is vera 


La Casa Negra. 83 

pretty this night also, and having so gooda 
time. 

“After the supper, que es un gran fiesta, 
nearly all are in the ball-room, and there is 
mucha dancing, when all at once comes run- 
ning Manuel, one of the servants : ‘El doctor ! 
el doctor !’ he cry, his breath all gone. ‘Adonde 
esta el Doctor Cristobal ? You must coma quick, 
el Senor Martinez isa die/’ he speak vera low 
to the doctor, but I catcha the words, and they 
go out together very fast. 

“Of course there is mucha talk, and the 
story spread vera soon que Don Pedro has 
killed Senor Martinez, a guest in his own 
house. Doha Mercedes is vera brave, but can 
do nothing, so many people have hear the story 
already, and something must be done to get 
rid of them. The men are going out to see 
for themselves, and no one cares to dance any 
more, so Don Jose aska them all to go; there 
has been trouble, ‘un accidente, un lance fu- 
nesto/ and they can do no good. 

“Only the doctor can stay after that, and I 
come home by myself and wait whh much im- 
patience. He come by and by, and it is true. 
El Senor Martinez is dead, stabbed in the 


84 


La Casa Negra. 

breast by Don Pedro, and no one knowing 
why. Some little quarrel, it is thought, but 
Don Pedro will not speak. It had all happen 
in the patio, with no one near to see, only the 
dagger of Don Pedro in the heart of Senor 
Martinez to tell the story, and Don Pedro him- 
self, standing by with a face of the most aw- 
ful fear and horror. 

“But this is not all, Don Ernesto. Senor 
Martinez is stranger here, and have fewa 
friends, and it is not man who punish. Passa 
one week, and Don Pedro is himself kill, found 
dead one morning vera early fronta the house. 
He, too, is stab in the heart, but the knife is 
not there. All the street is rouse, and there is 
great excitement already, when some one cry, 
‘Looka the house/ and they all look, and, ca- 
ramba! — the house, Don Ernesto, the whole 
front is turning black. Slowly, little by little, 
in half an hour it is all black. It is the truth. 
I, myself am seeing with these eyes. Madre 
de Dios, it was terrible. Doha Mercedes is 
pray in the street, and the girls are cry in each 
other's arms, ‘Holy Mother, we are accursed 
of God.' 

“No one will touch Don Pedro, no one will 


85 


La Casa Negra. 

enter the house, but all stand away, until by 
and by, somebody fetcha el Padre Tomaso. 
He, too, is shock, and then coming el Doctor 
Cristobal, who is afraid of nothing. El doc- 
tor has been out all night with un caso, and is 
vera tired, but he not stopping think of him- 
self when there is trouble. He examine the 
dead man, while Padre Tomaso is comfort the 
women, and then after consult with the father, 
together they taka the body of Don Pedro, and 
cara it into the house. In a little while they 
have bury in the patio, and all is quiet in the 
street, and the house it have stay the same — to 
this day, as you see. 

“Don Jose Antonio de la Rosa have come 
and look with the rest, and gone away. He not 
marrying Isabel, now. The servants have 
leave at once, all except faithful old Maria, 
who nursa Doha Mercedes when she is vera 
little. All the house is close, only a small part 
in the back is occupy by them now, and they 
have no more society, no visitors, no friends; 
— they do not desire. Padre Tomaso only is 
receive, and they go always to mass, but they 
all vera proud, so not seeing anyone they meet 
and go out at no other time. 


86 




La Casa Negra. 

“They liva like this about a year, when one 
morning just at breakfast time, the doctor is 
call. It is old Maria. 'Will the doctor come 
quick, the Senorita Isabel, they cannot wake 
her V It is another death. This time it is not a 
murder, there is no mark, no sign of poisoning. 
Nothing. — It is the curse. 

“Three years later it is Doha Mercedes her- 
self, exactamente the same way. She is not ill, 
there is no cry, no sound, but in the morning she 
is dead. It is the curse again, and Josefina is 
leave all alone. 

“She, poor child, has live with only old Maria 
for two years now. Probrecita, she is so sad, 
but not so proud as the others, so sometimes we 
have talk for a moment. She has so mucha 
gratitude para el doctor. And now, Don Er- 
nesto, que dice ? Do you believe or not ? Si no 
is a curse, what is it?” 

“It certainly is the strangest, most remark- 
able story I have ever listened to, and I have 
scarcely breathed, I was so absorbed in every 
detail. I don’t expect to sleep to-night. You 
say the house turned black before your eyes? 
That is the most wonderful of all. But did no 
one examine it closely? Did they not try to 
remove the paint?” 


87 


La Casa Negra. 

“Si: el doctor have examine. Es just the 
same as always only black, no is paint by man 
but devil. At night old Maria have scruba long 
time, and no have change one little spot.” 

“Let me see, what time did you say it was? 
About half after four? Why it would not be 
very light at that time, anyway, would it?” 

“Oh, Don Ernesto!” cried the Senora, with 
as much indignation as her characteristic ami- 
ability would ever allow, “you not believing 
yet. You Americanos are so smart. You acka 
the question, you zolva the riddle. I tella you 
si you zolva this mystery, I — I giva you any- 
thing you asking. No; I am not afraid, you 
cannot do it; no es possible.” 

“What is all this excitement ? Did you know 
it was dinner time?” called the doctor, who had 
come in unobserved by the preoccupied group 
on the balcony. 

“Oh, La Casa Negra, is it? I might have 
known. Well, it is a subject we are all inter- 
ested in, but what do you say to leaving the 
discussion for a time? I believe in banishing 
all perplexing mental effort at meal times ; it is 
detrimental to a perfect digestive efficiency.” 
The doctor, who was rather fond of a display 


88 


La Casa Negra. 

of words, gave his arm to the Senora, and led 
the way to the dining room, followed by Ernest 
with Regina. 

After dinner, the arrival of friends prevented 
any further allusion to the black house, and the 
doctor, pleading important official work, re- 
paired to the office adjoining his study. The 
young people passed a very merry evening, with 
music and dancing in the “sala,” and it was af- 
ter midnight before the departure of the guests, 
and the withdrawal of the ladies gave Ernest 
the opportunity he had been longing for all 
the evening, a quiet tete-a-tete with the doctor. 
He found himself very welcome in the study, 
where the two men, one stretched on the sofa, 
and the other reclining comfortably in the Mor- 
ris chair, prepared to enjoy each other’s society, 
and the subject at hand. 

“Well, what did you think of the Senora’s 
story?” said the doctor, after a few luxurious 
puffs. “I suppose she told you all about it? 
Very bewildering; yes.” 

The doctor appeared in an especially talkative 
mood, and Ernest secretly delighted, composed 
himself to listen. 

“Of course, in her case you have to make 


89 


La Casa Negra. 

allowance for a strong hereditary inclination to 
superstitious influences. Hers, however, is the 
opinion of every one about here, rich and poor, 
educated and ignorant alike.” 

“But what is your opinion, how do you ac- 
count for it all?” asked Ernest, impatient to 
get at the heart of things. “Especially the 
house?” 

“I don’t account for that, although I can’t 
say I am willing yet to attribute it to an infuri- 
ated diety. It is not paint, however, that I 
know. In fact, there is no superficial deposition 
of any sort whatever. I was not present during 
the transitory interval, so I can only vouch for 
its subsequent appearance, which has always 
been as you see it now. It seems highly in- 
credible, perhaps due to overwrought imag- 
inations, yet I hate to doubt the Senora, who 
certainly has plenty of corroborative testimony. 
Old Juan Bautista, who lives down the street, 
and was one of the first on the spot, declares it 
was black all the time, though, but he is an ob- 
stinate old crank, hardly ever known to agree 
with any one,” and the doctor laughed, with 
evident enjoyment. 

“How about the deaths, doctor? You were 


90 


La Casa Negra. 

present at all of them? Did you find any un- 
usual indications ?” 

“Yes; and no. The first two were murders, 
as you heard ; but in the post mortem examina- 
tions of the women, I could discover no remark- 
able peculiarities. In both instances a simple 
case of heart failure had been induced by de- 
cline of the arterial blood pressure, while in 
that of Dona Mercedes there was present also, 
acute endateritis. Isabel through grief for her 
father, and the mental suffering caused by the 
desertion of her lover, the loss of friends and 
all social stimulus ; Dona Mercedes missing the 
devoted husband whom she had loved to dis- 
traction, involved in a perfect labyrinth of 
agonizing mysteries, all cruelly humiliating to 
her pride, but which she, with a mother’s un- 
selfishness, tried to endure in greater part, fin- 
ally succumbed, three years after the death of 
Isabel, to a complete mental and physical ex- 
haustion. There is nothing very strange in 
these deaths; but those of Martinez and Don 
Pedro, — that is another matter. There is much 
ground for speculation there. 

“To begin with the death of Martinez, which 
occurred first. When I was called from the ball 


9! 


La Casa Negra. 

room to the patio, on that memorable night, I 
found them, the dead and the living, in the 
darkest and most secluded part of the garden, 
where the foliage was very dense on each 
side of the walk, — a spot near the rear wall. 
Martinez had been stabbed through the heart, 
with one swift, well-aimed stroke, and was 
quite dead. Dying, he had clutched his sup- 
posed antagonist, and grasped in his hands por- 
tions of the acacia bush at his side, which he 
had torn off. He had given a sharp cry. 

“ ‘Help, help, Mother of God, I die!’ This 
had reached the ears of Manuel, who waited at 
Don Pedro’s bidding within easy calling dis- 
tance, and had already served them with drinks. 
Martinez lay, apparently as he had fallen, — on 
his back ; and Don Pedro, who had been bend- 
ing over him, turned to me a face which, by 
the lantern Manuel now brought, attracted my 
immediate attention. In his expression there 
was a mingling of fear, consternation, horror 
and incredulity, such as I had never seen before 
on any living countenance. 

“ ‘Whose knife is this?’ I asked, as I drew it 
out and held it to the light. ‘Yours, is it not?’ 

“ ‘Yes,’ he answered, and gasped as if sufikn 


92 


La Casa Negra. 

eating, but to my questions as to how it hap- 
pened he would make no reply except 'I cannot 
tell you.’ His whole manner was strange be- 
yond the cause, which is not extraordinary, 
shocking or unusual in this country — the kill- 
ing of a man more or less, if one is a gentleman, 
and can justify himself. He seemed like one in 
a maze, or struggling with some baffling prob- 
lem, which rendered him wholly indifferent to 
what went on about him. I can tell you I 
pitied the man, whom I had always thoroughly 
liked and admired. I felt it must have been 
the hasty act of a moment of intense anger, and 
not without provocation. Perhaps threatened 
himself by Martinez, whose face I did not 
trust. That it was not premeditated I was sure, 
and I did all in my power to help him and his 
family, as he seemed bereft of movement and 
the ability to act. 

“The dagger, which was a beautifully jew- 
eled one, was well known, and could not have 
failed of identification, and yet, in spite of this, 
before I left, I went up to Don Pedro, and 
gripped his hand with a few words of sym- 
pathy to which I felt impelled. Why I felt 
obliged to do so I have never fully understood, 


La Casa Negra. 93 

but I do not regret it, for it is probably owing 
to this slight circumstance that I came into 
possession of further and still more perplex- 
ing details, which I have never hitherto re- 
vealed. It was on the following night, and I 
had just returned from a case and stepped in 
here for a smoke, when the office bell sounded, 
and going to the door I found Don Pedro. He 
entered without hesitancy at my invitation, 
and I saw at once that he had regained some- 
thing of his usual manner, which was very 
manly and straightforward. 

“ ‘Doctor, I have not forgotten your great 
kindness last night,’ he said, ‘and am come to 
ask another. You are an American, a gentle- 
man, a man of education and of science. You 
are different from these others who would 
never believe me, were I to speak. I trust you, 
and I beg your patience a few minutes, and 
your advice, and opinion, afterward.’ 

‘‘I was not slow to promise these, and he 
soon told me his story. 

“Martinez and he had gone to this secluded 
part of the patio, that they might better enjoy 
their conversation, which was of a private char- 
acter, but not a quarrel, Don Pedro stated posi- 


94 


A_, 


La Casa Negra. 

tively. They had been there a half hour, per- 
haps, had talked earnestly, but without the 
slightest anger, when suddenly someone had 
stabbed Martinez, and he had fallen dead with 
the cry heard by Manuel. 

“During the latter’s absence to fetch me, Don 
Pedro, after searching the bushes on all sides, 
had struck a match and bent over Martinez, 
"only to discover his own dagger in his friend’s 
breast. That he had not put it there, he swore. 
The dagger had not been worn by him for 
some days, and here came the most appalling 
part. He had given the dagger to Isabel that 
morning. She knew nothing about it since she 
had placed it carefully in a small table drawer 
in her room. She had not shown it to any one, 
not even to Don Jose. She had been too much 
occupied with thoughts of the evening and 
preparations for the ball. 

“Who could have taken it? It was a ques- 
tion I could not answer, and we discussed in 
turn each member of Don Pedro’s household, 
without arriving at any conclusion. They were 
all trustworthy servants, above suspicion, and 
lacking any incentive, so far as we could judge. 
Moreover, they did not know of the present. 


95 


La Casa Negra. 

Did Don Jose know of it ? Yes : but he was not 
to be considered; besides, he was in the ball 
room. 

“ 'Why do you not speak/ I asked at last, 
'and tell the story ?’ 

" 'And involve Isabel V he said ; and I agreed 
it would not do. 

" ‘It is no use/ he said bitterly. 'It is a plot, 
a fiendish plot, to ruin and deprive me of my 
liberty and reason. Martinez was not well 
known to you, but I tell you he has powerful 
friends and protectors, who will avenge his 
death. And to deny what I cannot prove, to 
be called coward, liar, worse than murderer, I 
will bear in silence first. If I live I will find 
the villain who has done this deed, and he, 
too, shall taste death/ 

"I promised him my help in every way possi- 
ble, and he departed seeming a little cheered by 
my words. But he did not live to fulfil his vow, 
nor benefit by my advice, as he died six days 
later, with an ugly three-cornered cut in his 
heart.” 

The two men smoked in silence for some min- 
utes. 

"This Martinez seems to have been rather a 


a, 


96 La Casa Negra. 

mysterious character/’ observed Ernest, 
thoughtfully. “Don’t you know anything defi- 
nite about him?” 

“Nothing positively authentic is known. 
There have been rumors to the effect that he 
was a Chileno, here on some secret official 
mission, and if that is true, his presence as a 
guest in Don Pedro’s house, during the uncer- 
tain state of affairs with Chili, suggest to my 
mind the probability of some political intrigue, 
involving the latter’s honor.” 

“You think Martinez’s death was avenged, 
then?” asked Ernest. “Had Don Pedro no 
enemies here?” 

“None to my knowledge ; he was well liked.” 

“How about this Juan Bautista, Father To- 
maso, and the young fellow engaged to Isabel, 
— Don Jose?” 

“Nothing tangible there, my boy. Nothing 
at all. Juan Bautista is a crabbed, contrary 
old simpleton, a character indeed, but with a 
better heart on closer acquaintance. Father 
Tomaso I have known for years. He is the 
confessor of the Senora, a man of rare intelli- 
gence, noted everywhere for his kind words 
and charitable acts, respected and esteemed by 


97 


La Casa Negra. 

all, equally. As for Don Jose, he was pros- 
trated with grief at the calamity, but could not 
sufficiently overcome the national superstition 
to return to poor Isabel, nor would his family 
have permitted it, had his courage availed. He 
has never married, and occasionally, of an even- 
ing, he can be seen walking slowly to and fro, 
before the house, with staring eyes and preoc- 
cupied step, one more sorrowful victim of the 
curse, as it is designated.” 

“It is all very perplexing,” resumed the doc- 
tor, after a moment's pause, “and I have often 
longed to discuss it with one of my own country 
and profession. I will introduce you within the 
week to all of these people I have mentioned, 
also any others you may suggest, and you will 
realize for yourself, the baffling character of 
the whole mystery. We can surmise and specu- 
late to our heart's content, but we arrive no 
nearer the solution.” 

“I never was so interested in anything in all 
my life,” replied Ernest. “Its very intricacy 
renders it all the more fascinating, and I can 
scarcely wait until morning to go over and 
make a closer inspection of the house. But 
the deaths of those women seem very extraor- 


98 


La Casa Negra. 

dinary to me. You are quite convinced, doc- 
tor, that they were due solely to heart failure, 
and there had been no foul play?” 

On that point the doctor was quite sure. 
Nevertheless, the two men launched into a dis- 
cussion of poisonous drugs, their effects, and 
methods of detection, which lasted a good hour 
longer, and it was nearly three o’clock when 
they finally said good night and retired. 

Ernest, fresh from college, had entered into 
the subject with true professional avidity, and 
was very impatient to begin his investigations. 
His mind was filled with the doctor’s story, to 
the almost complete exclusion of Regina, for 
he had a passion for the weird and the mysteri- 
ous, which had been cultivated rather than re- 
pressed. He slept soundly, however, and was 
only roused some hours later, by the doctor’s 
voice in his ears, and his hand upon his shoul- 
der. 

“Wake up,” he said, “and come with me. 
You’ve got your opportunity to see the black 
house much sooner than you expected. Hur- 
ry,” he urged, as Ernest jumped from the bed 
excitedly. 

“Try and be ready when I am,” added the 


La Casa Negra. 99 

doctor, as he hastily left to complete his own 
toilet. 

“What is it?” Ernest asked as a minute later 
they flew down the stairs together. 

“I don’t know,” the doctor answered. “Old 
Maria was very incoherent. That something 
was the matter with Josefina, was all I could 
make out. Dead, or dying, I couldn’t tell 
which. She has gone for Father Tomaso, who 
lives in the next street. So I trust there is still 
hope.” 

Fairly running, they entered the house. Er- 
nest gave a glance at its black, lugubrious 
walls, as they hastened through the main hall- 
way, into the patio, and along the side corridor 
until they reached a door at the farther end. 
They were met just outside by Maria and 
Father Tomaso, who must have hurried also, 
but with that remnant of composure which is 
retained for emergencies, stilled their agitated 
breathing, — and the hush of apprehensive ex- 
pectancy fell upon all four. 

The priest, no detail of whose appearance 
escaped Ernest in the slight pause which en- 
sued, was a large, imposing man of lofty car- 
riage and haughty mien, his features denoting 
L.ofC. 


100 La Casa Negra. 

strength and intellect, and kindness, but great 
reserve. 

“Let us see what has happened to the little 
Josefina,” he said in Spanish, his broken tones 
betraying his depth of feeling. 

They entered the room together. Stretched 
upon the bed lay the beautiful girl, whose life 
of tragedy and suffering had excited all their 
sympathies. She seemed asleep, so natural 
was the position of her body. The doctor and 
Ernest bent quickly over her. Life was ex- 
tinct, and the body already cold. 

“It is no use, she has been dead some time,” 
Doctor Christopher spoke in Spanish to the 
waiting man and woman. With a shriek of 
intense anguish, old Maria threw herself upon 
the floor. 

“My Josefina! My little darling! All I had 
left ! Holy Mary, what shall I do ? What shall 
I do?” she sobbed. 

Father Tomaso, also deeply affected, sank 
upon his knees, remaining for some time in 
prayer, while the two doctors proceeded to thor : 
oughly investigate the condition of the body. 
Their examination lasted some time, Ernest re- 
turning repeatedly for another and closer in- 


La Casa Negra. 101 

spection, of what had been more rapidly passed 
over by the older man. 

“I can detect nothing,” Doctor Christopher 
said at last in response to Ernest's low inquiry, 
“can you?” he added, surprised by the look of 
suppressed intelligence on the young man’s face, 
the evident excitement in his manner. 

“She did not die a natural death, however, of 
that I feel convinced,” said the latter, in a 
tone so decided, that the priest started, and old 
Maria, who also understood nothing of Eng- 
lish, ceased her moaning temporarily. 

“But there are no indications of poison, no 
excoriation, not even a bite or a scratch,” ob- 
jected the other. 

“Very true,” admitted Ernest, “but there are 
clearly in evidence, rhythmical and unanimous 
muscular contraction, fibrillation, and as- 
phyxia.” 

“Then you think,” — Father Tomaso had 
risen, and was slowly moving about. 

“I think,” repeated Ernest, “that Josefina 
Sanchez was murdered. Not in any ordinary 
manner, but by an instrument so strange and 
unprecedented, especially for this unscientific 
country, as to surpass all credence. When we 


102 


La Casa Negra. 

can discover the man with such a means of an- 
nihilation ;n his possession, we shall have 
found, not only Josefina’s murderer, but the 
murderer also of Doha Mercedes and Isabel. 
I will explain to you my whole theory later,” 
he added, as Father Tomaso approached them, 
and Doctor Christopher spoke a few belated 
words of introduction. 

“I am glad to meet all Americans,” said the 
Father, pleasantly. “You have my admiration 
as a nation. But this is indeed a sad occasion, 
and little suited for compliment. I should like 
much to hear your opinion as to the death of 
this poor girl. With my intimate knowledge 
of the family, each individual member of which 
was dear to me, I may possibly be of some as- 
sistance to you in forming judgments; as I per- 
ceive you are much interested in the whole af- 
fair. If you will both honor me by taking 
breakfast with me, we can then talk with an 
ease and fluency which is impossible at the 
present moment.” 

Ernest accepted, readily, so they agreed to be 
at the house of Father Tomaso by ten o’clock, 
and with directions to Maria not to disturb the 
body, all three left the house. 


103 


La Casa Negra. 

The ladies, who had heard nothing, were not 
yet risen, so Ernest and the doctor betook them- 
selves to the study, where coffee and rolls were 
served them, and Ernest entered into an elab- 
orate explanation of his theory. 

It was two hours later, when they finally is- 
sued forth to fulfil their appointment, and the 
doctor hastily scribbling a note of explanation 
to the Senora, led the way to the rear door. 

“We always go this way,” he said; “it is so 
much nearer. Our garden adjoins his, so he 
is a near neighbor, you see, and an unusually 
agreeable one, as you will discover for yourself. 
No fruit or flowers so rare or exceptionally 
perfect but must be saved for the Senora or Re- 
gina. He was all in all to the Sanchez family, 
and as for the poorer class, they worship him.” 

They reached the house as the doctor spoke, 
and threading their way through the patio, pic- 
turesque with its shrubs and flowers, were met 
by a servant, who showed them to a large and 
elaborately furnished room, the “sala” of the 
establishment. 

“We have come to take breakfast with Father 
Tomaso,” Doctor Christopher explained, as the 


104 La Casa Negra. 

man hesitated, at loss to account for their pres- 
ence. 

“I will speak to him, Senor Doctor,” he said, 
evidently much embarrassed. “He is still in 
the sanctuary.” 

“I wonder what disturbs Enrique?” mur- 
mured the doctor, who knew the man well. 
“Can it be that Father Tomaso has forgotten 
to inform the cook of our coming. Never 
mind, if that is the case, they will soon make 
amends. The Father has some very fine pic- 
tures. We can stimulate our appetites with a 
little art.” 

Several minutes elapsed, and Enrique re- 
turned, breathless and greatly distressed. 

“I beg a thousand pardons, Senores, but I 
cannot make him hear, and the door is locked. 
He entered two hours passed, and Rosita, who 
has been waiting to speak with him, says he is 
still there, she is sure. Will you come and as- 
sist me, Senores, for I have much fear.” 

Hurriedly they followed Enrique to the door 
of Father Tomaso’s sanctuary. No response, 
nor the slightest sound answered their raps, 
which were quickly increased in the excitement 
to heavy blows. 


105 


La Casa Negra. 

“We had better force the door. Something 
must certainly have happened,” said Doctor 
Christopher. 

They did so. No sign of Father Tomaso 
greeted their timid first look into the room they 
had so unceremoniously invaded, but their sec- 
ond discovered an opening in the floor at one 
corner. One glance down this was sufficient. 

“Bring us a light,” said Ernest, to the serv- 
ant. Doctor Christopher was pale with agi- 
tation. 

“You must bear up,” he said to the latter. 
“I’ll need all your help in a minute. Follow 
me now if you feel able. But you, Enrique, 
stay above.” The frightened man would not 
have descended for worlds. 

Cautiously they groped their way down the 
ladder. About half way, Ernest extended the 
light and looked searchingly about them. Close 
at hand he saw Father Tomaso, the distorted 
body thrown on its knees, the arms extended. 

“Stay where you are, doctor. Do you see 
those wires? Bend as I do, and if you value 
your life don’t touch them.” 

Stooping low and carefully avoiding the 
body, they reached the ground. They found 


106 


La Casa Negra. 

themselves in a small chamber, the walls of 
which were lined with shelves, containing in- 
numerable jars of every conceivable shape and 
variety. In one corner stood a work table, lit- 
tered with bottles and experimental apparatus; 
beneath it an immense earthen vessel, several 
smaller jugs, and a great coil of wire. 

“Galvanic batteries, every one of them,” said 
Ernest, with one quick glance at the countless 
array on all sides. 

The doctor shuddered. “How do you think 
it happened?” he asked, pointing to the body. 

“He must have slipped on the ladder. It is 
a singularly horrible death for one who pro- 
tected himself so ingeniously. You see this 
copper mat at the foot, those three wires strung 
at different heights, the lowest four feet from 
the gound? It was only necessary to step on 
the mat, and touch one wire to complete the cir- 
cuit. Any intruding stranger, without the 
ghastly warning we beheld, must have walked 
against one or more of them before his feet left 
the copper. The priest knew their position 
well, and was accustomed to bend, but 
falling unexpectedly, his arm caught the first 
wire, his feet touched the mat. The body re- 


La Casa Negra. 107 

mains held by the current and is burned, fright^ 
fully.” 

“We cannot move it at present,” said the 
doctor, brokenly. 

“No: we would better disconnect things 
first.” Seeking a means, they both approached 
the table. A sharp cry from Doctor Christo- 
pher disturbed the stillness. 

“See!” he said, holding up a strange, mur- 
derous looking tool. “The knife that killed 
Don Pedro. I should know it anywhere.” 

“What a shocking thing is this! The man 
must have been a fiend! a veritable Satan in 
saint's garb!” The doctor gasped with horror 
at the direful revelation. “Take care,” he whis- 
pered warningly, as Ernest, smelling the con- 
tents of several jugs, turned his attention to the 
large one. “You don’t know what that con- 
tains.” 

“No,” replied the other, “but as curiosity has 
the better of me, I shall have to take the risk.” 
Drawing from his pocket a small vial, he threw 
away the contents, and filled it from the ves- 
sel, at the same time saturating his handker- 
chief with the liquid, which was colorless and 
odorless. Barely glancing at the coil of wire, 


108 


La Casa Negra. 

he turned his gaze upward. Overhead, with 
track-like precision, ran two wires, the course 
they marked, narrowing perspectively until it 
stretched away into indefinite obscurity. 

“Let us see where those lead to,” said Er- 
nest suddenly, after a brief but studied con- 
templation of the ceiling, by the aid of the 
light and an improvised reflector — a small piece 
of glass secured from the work table. “In my 
opinion we will find this room much longer 
than we at first thought possible.” 

Raising the lamp aloft, he proceeded to lead 
the way, and, following the direction of the 
wires above their heads, they entered a narrow 
gallery. The air was damp and stifling, and^ 
the light began to flicker fretfully. Up and 
down, over rough ground and smooth the way 
led. It appeared interminable in the semi- 
darkness. A sharp turn to the right, and still 
on, the wires continued. Neither man spoke, 
so great was his excitement. At last they 
reached the end. A flight of rude steps went 
upward. 

Overhead, the wires ceased, descending to 
the floor. Near them lay two large coils of un- 
attached wire, and a pair of rubber mitts. Upon 


La Casa Negra. 109 

these suggestive tokens they looked with gath- 
ering apprehension. The doctor groaned. 

“Come,” said Ernest, and, leaving these as 
yet incredible proofs, they began to ascend. 

At the top they found a small trapdoor, 
hinged and bolted. Quickly drawing the bolt, 
Ernest raised the lid and drew himself up, the 
doctor following. They were in the room of 
Josefina Sanchez. 

Upon the bed lay the body. Old Maria was 
nowhere visible. 

Doctor Christopher mopped the perspiration 
from his troubled brow. “No words are nec- 
essary, Ernest,” he said solemnly, deeply 
moved by the pathos written so tragically in 
every line of the touching picture before them. 
“I am fully convinced your theory is correct, 
and all three of these women were cruelly mur- 
dered. I am faint! Let us get out into the 
air!” 

They walked down the garden, filled with 
the pity, the horror, the awfulness of it all. 

“Do you think he was responsible for all 
five?” the doctor asked unexpectedly. 

“As to who killed Martinez we can only 
guess. It was a deep laid plot. Whoever did 
so had recognized the Chilian and suspected 


110 


La Casa Negra. 

their intrigue before he overheard the conver- 
sation in the patio, for he came fully prepared 
to deal death to the one and ruin to the other, 
simultaneously.” 

“But this doesn’t account for the house it- 
self,” asserted the doctor. 

“Look at that.” Ernest held out to view 
his handkerchief, which had assumed an inky 
hue. “Nitrate of silver. It turns black upon 
exposure to the light. Father Tomaso kept 
enough on hand to prevent the house front 
regaining its original color. He may not have 
intended to kill Don Pedro, but was just com- 
pleting his first application when the latter ap- 
peared, and he was obliged to do so to escape 
discovery.” 

****** 

Silently they emerged from the gloomy patio, 
and came out into the street once more. The 
sunshine of a radiant tropical midday shone 
all about them, dazzling their unaccustomed 
eyes with its brightness. With a sigh of re- 
lief they welcomed it, and the shadow of the 
great evil they had just penetrated, melted 
from them, receding until it lost itself in the 
walls of La Casa Negra, which they left be- 
hind. 


THE CAT’S-EYE OF KOLI KAHN 


Love had come very seriously to Raymond 
Mitchell; in fact, altogether too seriously for 
comfort. It interfered with his personal tran- 
quillity and financial judgments and left but 
slight semblance of the calm, shrewd, business- 
centered man of but a few months previous. 
Still under forty, he was already a recognized 
member of that select and complaisant social 
set in which we all would fain be included — 
the millionaires of the metropolis. 

It was early evening, and as he drove rapidly 
through the now brilliantly lighted square his 
brow darkened with anger and bitter disap- 
pointment, his fine eyes narrowed to a danger- 
ous glitter, he did not look like a man who 
would be easily repelled by a woman’s negative, 
or disposed to abide quietly by its restrictions. 
To desire a thing was to possess it hitherto, in 
111 


112 The Cat’s-Eye of Koli Kahn. 

Raymond Mitchell’s life, and it did not seem 
possible that Edith Fessenden could be an ex- 
ception to this rule. However, the realistic im- 
pression created by her calm, indifferent words 
at their last meeting still surged in his ears like 
an overdose of quinine and the blood rushed to 
his brain as he thought fiercely of the marked 
preference she had lately displayed for Dick 
Trelaine, “that worthless young idiot,” he 
dubbed him contemptuously. 

“Why can’t people leave me alone a minute,” 
he thought, savagely, as he saw himself hailed 
from the sidewalk in the gayest and most un- 
ceremonious manner by Mr. Nathan Armitage, 
and his thoughts and solitude alike inter- 
rupted. 

“Hello, Nat, get in,” he growled, as the car- 
riage drew up in response to a surly nod of 
acquiescence to James, the groom. 

“Don’t mind it a particle. You look as if 
you had lost your last friend ; need me along to 
disprove the indications, so I’ll be obliged to 
sacrifice myself in a meritorious cause like this,” 
and jolly Nat Armitage, the most popular fel- 
low at the club and about town, sprang lightly 
beside him. . 


■i The Cat’s-Eye of Koli Kahn. 113 

Mitchell glanced at him, a trifle less irritated. 
No one could remain depressed long in Nat's, 
society. The frankest of expressions shone 
from his clear blue eyes, and the sunniest of 
smiles radiated from his lips, which were as 
delicately modeled as a woman's. He was 
garbed immaculately in the prevailing fashion. 

“Where were you bound?" he asked at once. 

“Home," replied Raymond, briefly. 

“Now that’s where you make a mistake, old 
man. I’ve accepted Mrs. von Sweetman’s in- 
vitation for the Oriental party she gives to- 
night; it will be the first of the season, and 
something of a novelty in its way, I fancy. 
What! Decided not to go! Come, now, re- 
consider that, I’m sure you’ll not regret it. She 
has no end of celebrities engaged, so I’m told 
— a first-class showing, I should say. Besides, 
necromancers, conjurers and fakirs of all sorts 
everybody will be there, and some one in par- 
ticular ; so come on. May I, please," he added 
more earnestly. “Thanks, old fellow — James, 
to the von Sweetman’s," and Nat settled back 
contentedly, well satisfied with his persuasive 
powers, and life in general. 

During their long suburban drive he con- 


114 The Cat’s-Eye of Koli Kahn. 

tinued to expatiate upon the probable attrac- 
tions of the evening, and it was only when 
they drew up before the von Sweetman man- 
sion that his chatter ceased for a moment. 
Guests were arriving in throngs and it was 
with difficulty that they made their way to 
their hostess. She was large and proportion- 
ately stout, sumptuously gowned and bejew- 
elled, but aesthetic in the extreme, and by her 
side, forming the greatest contrast to her mag- 
nificence, stood Koli Kahn, the great prince of 
Theosophists — tall, straight as a soldier he 
stood, wearing the conventional evening 
clothes, but with no suggestion of white about 
him — even his shirt front, which shone like pol- 
ished ebony, was black, and collar, cuffs and 
tie were equally sombre. A single, wonder- 
ful cat’s-eye glistened in his bosom, and fasci- 
nated all who came within the radius of its 
scintillations. Swarthy as an Egyptian, with 
features of a perturbed regularity, there was 
yet in his countenance an expression of great 
intelligence which baffled further analysis. His 
dignity and repose were great. His eyes, the 
only restless part of him, wandered among the 
crowd, ever watchful, expectant, brilliantly an- 


The Cat’s-Eye of Koli Kahn. 115 

ticipative. He vouchsafed but scanty acknowl- 
edgment of their introduction, and both 
Mitchell and Armitage made haste to mingle 
with the crowd, feeling that, in the moment’s 
swift piercing glance he had accorded them 
their very souls had been laid bare. Nat 
laughed uneasily. 

“Strange chap,” he said. “Somehow, he 
doesn’t exactly suggest ‘Nearer My God to 
Thee/ either. Ah! There is Miss Fessenden 
just being presented. Now watch him.” 

Turning, the two men beheld in the Ma- 
hatma a change as of the necromatic art. The 
face of Koli Kahn was animate. He bowed, 
he smiled, his teeth gleamed white as milk, 
his eyes shot lightning flashes, and they could 
see he was actually talking to the young lady, 
whose beauty alone was sufficient, perhaps, to 
explain his interest. 

Beautiful as a painting she was, but to 
Mitchell she appeared the ideal idealized, the 
embodiment of perfection in every detail and 
particular — the one woman the earth held. She 
was not unconscious of the homage paid her, 
and her manner was a singular combination of 
queenly dignity, almost approaching hauteur, 


116 The Cat’s-Eye of Koli Kahn. 

and sympathetic respondence. Her gold-brown 
hair waved above a forehead of marble purity 
and her lovely gray eyes lighted with a tender, 
emotional brilliancy. The perfect mouth, those 
full red lips, that seemed to contradict every 
other feature, parted in an all-absorbing inter- 
est, as a child listens to its first fairy tale. It 
was a new Edith, far more beautiful than the 
old, in that momentary transformation. For 
an instant it seemed as if an artist with magic 
brush had touched the eyes, the lips, had made 
divine the whole face ; then it was gone. The 
lovely eyes grew cold, and indifferent, and with- 
drew in disdain behind a screen of jet black 
lashes. The bewitching curves were erased, 
and others, contemptuous, scornful, took their 
place. The girl had regained her self-conscious- 
ness, and the regal Miss Fessenden swept away 
with the crowd, followed closely, however, by 
a number of ardent admirers who had been 
waiting unnoticed, and the fortunate Dick Tre- 
laine. 

With an exclamation of irritation and dis- 
gust, Raymond Mitchell strode on, and, pass- 
ing through a doorway artistically concealed 
by an arch of tropical plants, they found them- 


The CatVEye of Koli Kahn. 117 

selves in what appeared a veritable forest. The 
walls had been everywhere concealed by plants, 
shrubs and vines ; trees partly painted and part- 
ly real, deceived the eye until in closest prox- 
imity ; here and there a waterfall tumbled from 
an apparent height ; strange birds flitted about ; 
and a gibbering monkey scampered across their 
path, disappearing in the rank growth of foli- 
age which simulated so perfectly the jungle of 
the East. A cave appeared at their right, seem- 
ingly in the solid rock, and guarding its en- 
trance and but half hidden by clusters of cacti 
couched a very genuine-looking and awe-in- 
spiring royal Bengal tiger. Glancing overhead, 
they found the realistic effect still further en- 
hanced. Amid a darkened ceiling shone the 
stars twinkling their electric rays upon a scene 
which must have been for them also fraught 
with most novel attractiveness. 

“I suppose we may consider ourselves in Hin- 
doostan,” said Nat, gaily. “And look! There 
are tents of some of the different tribes. Let 
us skip over and see the performances of our 
friends, the Sahirs and Yogi.” 

The forest was already explored by vivacious 
guests, who filled its enchanted precincts with 


118 The Cat’s-Eye of Koli Kahn. 

the babel of their exclamations, significant of 
wonder and delight. 

As the two friends approached the first tent 
they joined a large circle of enthralled specta- 
tors grouped about a priest of Mongolia, a 
Lama, of manifest skill and learning. Before 
him burned a flickering fire of spirit flame, now 
blazing high and fierce, with angry roar, now 
waxing faint and low, sinking to the ground 
and disappearing, and leaving only a strange 
blue glare. From this were seen to issue 
strange shapes and outlines, gradually material- 
izing until they assumed animal or human 
forms and were gruesomely recognizable. The 
people spoke only in whispers, awed tempo- 
rarily by these manifestations of occult phe- 
nomena and their strange creator, who mean- 
while sat motionless, expressionless, bowed in 
meditation. 

Mitchell stood gazing with the concentrated 
look of the sceptic who summons all his under- 
standing and scientific theories in a vain en- 
deavor to explain and dissipate the preternat- 
ural. But, moving on, the restless, impulsive 
Nat hastened to join Miss Fessenden, whom he 
had descried at a little distance and alone. His 


The Cat’s-Eye of Koli Kahn. 119 

friend saw him depart, but with a shrug of 
supreme indifference resisted successfully his 
inclination and declined to follow. 

Miss Fessenden had just paused before a 
second tent, where two performers, a man and 
a woman, were growing magic flowers planted 
from the seed but a few minutes before. The 
woman, a gaunt, hollow-cheeked, witch-like 
creature, sought Edith with her glittering eyes, 
as if about to speak. 

“How is it I find you alone, Miss Fessenden, 
in this dangerous realm of enchantment and 
the black art, and where, may I inquire, are 
your escorts that they abandon you to such 
dangers?” cried Nat, as he reached her side. 

“I have dismissed them all, Mr. Armitage. 
I preferred to be by myself to-night, and they 
detracted from my enjoyment,” and with a 
smile of imperious tranquillity she turned again 
toward the Ani. 

“Is there no possible revision in my favor,” 
queried the indefatigable Nat. “I will be just 
awfully quiet and submissive.” 

“No possible one, unless I were to disprove 
my own veracity, so you had better leave me to 
my fate,” 


120 The Cat’s-Eye of Koli Kahn. 

“But although I may not join you, I can 
still guard you from a little distance; that is, 
if I promise not to speak unless an urgent ne- 
cessity arises,” still pleaded Nat. 

The coquettish beauty laughed. “I should 
be much afraid to trust your ‘urgent necessity/ 
Mr. Armitage. Besides,” she added, “serious- 
ly, I am in search of psychical wisdom to-night 
in this dream country which Mrs. von Sweet- 
man has rendered so alluringly unique, and I 
am in no mood for escort or guardian. So you 
will have to go. If I perceive either lingering 
about, after being warned, I shall have him dis- 
persed by occult methods. So good bye,” and 
the disappointed Nat was forced to relinquish 
all hope, and, like the proverbial Arab, “silently 
steal away.” 

The girl turned with evident relief to the 
woman, who, during the conversation, had not 
ceased to regard her with the same fixed inter- 
est. The latter spoke : 

“Why does the young lady continue to wear 
the flower which is dead?” pointing to a rose 
which nestled in the lace of Miss Fessenden’s 
corsage. 

“It is not dead,” answered Edith with con- 


The Cat’s-Eye of Koli Kahn. 121 

siderable indignation. “It was gathered but 
a few moments ago and has not even begun to 
fade.” 

“And yet it is dead,” the woman answered 
insistently. “To be coffined within the limits of 
the material, is not that death? See how dif- 
ferently such a flower appears when resplend- 
ent in the eternal sunshine and alive in the 
realms of the divine Nara.” 

Still retaining her seat upon the ground, with 
weird gestures, she began slowly accumulating 
the magnetic forces from the atmosphere about 
and above her. Soon a dimly perceptible mist 
was objected, slowly assuming shape and color, 
until, before the girl’s wondering eyes, ap- 
peared, depending in midair, a rose, the exact 
counterpart of the one she wore, but shining 
with a strange, iridescent beauty. 

“Indeed, it is much more beautiful. Is it 
real, and may I have it?” cried Edith, enrap- 
tured. 

“Touch it, and you will be satisfied; with’ 
yourself rests your power to retain it,” an- 
swered the Ani. 

Delighted, Edith grasped the flower, holding 
it first at arm’s length, and devouring it with 


122 The Cat’s-Eye of Koli Kahn. 

her eyes ; then, drawing it nearer, she satiated 
her senses with ecstatic inhalations. 

“It is perfect, divine; it’s perfume is intoxi- 
cating,” she cried, discarding the one she wore. 
“Will you not make others for me?” 

“Nothing shall be denied you, but not here 
and now. In the apartment beyond await you 
still greater wonders. Go, for you are called,” 
commanded the woman. 

“But where, which way?” asked Edith, daz- 
zled and reluctant. 

“The way will be shown you,” and the 
strange eyes flashed a last signal of dismissal. 
“Go,” she breathed, compellingly, “and hasten.” 

Clasping tightly the spirit rose, the girl 
turned away. She walked on, smiling dream- 
ingly, as she held it ever before her face, feast- 
ing upon its fragrance and ethereal beauty. 
Gradually she seemed to gain inspiration. Her 
indifferent steps became accelerated, definite in 
their tendency, and her dazed expression 
changed to one of luminous excitement. 

“How strange I am to-night!” she thought, 
“but is not he calling me ? He?” She touched 
the rose with her lips. “I am coming,” she 
murmured, “I obey.” 


The Cat’s-Eye of Koli Kahn. 123 

In and out among the people, avoiding 
friends and intimates, she moved. Strange 
sights tempted her vision from all sides — fa- 
kirs, jugglers and dancing maidens, who floated 
above the ground. Once she thought to pause 
before a wonderful snake-charmer, but he, de- 
sisting, waved her on. Resuming, she brushed 
close by Mitchell in the crowd, but did not per- 
ceive him. Her gaze was absorbed, somnam- 
bulistic, and fixed far beyond. She glided on 
through different rooms, each unique in its con- 
ception until it seemed as if she must have de- 
scribed the two sides of a triangle. Finally, in 
one whose interior feigned that of an Eastern 
pagoda, she slipped behind an image of the di- 
vine Buddha, and, pushing aside an almost in- 
distinguishable drapery, stepped from the re- 
cess into a small, darkened chamber. For a 
moment she was conscious of nothing but ob- 
scurity. Then a soft, lurid light, emanating 
apparently from the flower she held, discovered 
her surroundings, and Koli Kahn rose from 
the meditative attitude he had been occupying 
and approached her. 

“It is well,” he said, and, extending his hand 


124 The Cat’s-Eye of Koli Kahn. 

to the rose, which, at his touch, gave forth in- 
creased light, he embraced her with his eyes. 

“Welcome, beloved,” he said, with great ten- 
derness. “Through many aeons of sacrificial 
abnegation I have resisted, waiting only for 
thy coming. The memory of that time ages 
gone is fresh within me. Do you not remember 
now when we dwelt together upon the hills at 
Branam-gura ?” 

“I do not remember,” said Edith, trembling. 
“There is something I cannot recall, but not 
that, I am sure.” 

“Dear soul of mine,” his eyes softly lumi- 
nant, attracting hers, “do not fear me thus. I 
have waited too long not to have learned pa- 
tience and supreme restraint. Come, look with 
me into that past which alone you cannot pene- 
trate.” And plucking from his bosom the 
glowing cat’s-eye, he held it out before her. 

As she looked upon its dazzling surface, it 
seemed to deepen and expand. Slowly evolv- 
ing from the chaos of darkness, appeared light 
and color; nature itself, a scene of rare tropical 
beauty, and yet strangely familiar; then two 
figures became visible; a man and a woman — 
they drew near — the man caught the woman 


The Cat’s-Eye of Koli Kahn. 125 

to him and kissed her eyes, her lips ; the woman 
raised her radiant face with an expression of 
impassioned tenderness. She recognized her- 
self and Koli Kahn. Then the arm of the living 
man beside her clasped her gently, and the pic- 
ture slowly faded. 

She struggled to free herself, with a low cry, 
and the rose fell to the floor, but the chamber 
remained dimly lighted at the farther end. 
Hastily the Mahatma breathed upon her face, 
and as quickly all resistance ceased within the 
girl. 

“Forgive me, precious life, ,, he murmured. 
“It were not possible to do otherwise. Time is 
wanting now to convince you, for I must go.” 
He made a few rapid passes above her head, 
touching her hair lightly with his lips. 

“Do not fail to be at the Eastern gateway in 
half an hour,” he commanded, in a clear, dis- 
tinct voice. And then, with a last ravishment 
of the eyes, he vanished in the direction of the 
light. 

For a few seconds Edith stood; then blindly, 
resolutely she groped her way forward. 

Some moments later Nat Armitage, breath- 
less and excited, reached his friend Mitchell, 


126 The Cat’s-Eye of Koli Kahn. 

from whose side he had strayed many times 
during the short evening. 

“Good God, man !” he exclaimed. “What do 
you suppose I have just seen and heard? After 
leaving you so occupied with the Yogi, feeling 
a bit tired of the fakirs and their impenetrable 
deceits, I wandered back to that grotto-like 
cave we saw when we first entered the jungle 
room, and, yielding to a weakness I have for 
such things, began examining the tiger, which 
was a remarkably fine specimen, as we both ob- 
served at the time. While I was absorbed in 
admiring the skin and the consummate art of 
the taxidermist, my attention was distracted by 
low voices within the cave. At first I paid 
little heed, but soon a slight cry perplexed and 
startled me, and in the appalling silence which 
ensued I distinctly heard, in a clear, authorita- 
tive tone, these words : 

“ 'Do not fail to be at the Eastern gateway 
in half an hour/ 

“They were scarcely uttered when I was 
aware of an approaching presence, and that 
devilish Mahatma glided by me. As he turned 
aside, and, glancing back, perceived me, his eyes 
flashed streams of fire, and at the same instant 


The Cat’s-Eye of Koli Kahn. 127 

the inanimate tiger lashed its tail and showed 
its teeth with ferocious reality. Surmising it 
was but a trick to frighten me, I became the 
more determined to investigate the cave, and, 
making my way to the entrance, I struck a 
match and stepped inside, when, issuing from 
the gloom, Edith Fessenden passed hurriedly, 
with pale face and dilated eyes. 

* “ ‘Miss Fessenden ! Edith ! One moment !’ 

I implored ; yet she neither saw nor heard me, 
but with the same strange expression of abso- 
lute imperturbability, walked steadily on, and 
before I could recover my stupefied senses she 
had disappeared.” 

“Where did she go ? Which way ? Are you 
sure there was something wrong with her?” 
questioned Mitchell, sharply, internally agi- 
tated. 

“I essayed to follow her at first, but after a 
frantic search in several directions, all to no 
purpose, I gave it up and came back here. I 
am as sure that Edith Fessenden was not in her 
right mind when she came out of the cave as I 
am of my own identity. Yes, I know, I have 
seen many illusions to-night, but their effect 
only strengthens my conviction. Mesmerism 


128 The Cat’s-Eye of Koli Kahn. 

and hypnotism are acknowledged powers; cer- 
tainly we have not time to argue the matter, if 
we would be of any assistance to Miss Fessen- 
den and prevent this outrageous undertaking,” 
said Nat, slightly indignant at the implied 
doubt. 

“You are quite right, Armitage, and we 
shall not lose another minute,” came from 
Mitchell, the words tense with feeling. “How 
much time have we now?” 

“About eight minutes, as near as I can esti- 
mate,” said Nat, watch in hand. “I did not 
think to look until afterward, so cannot tell 
exactly.” 

“Come on, then,” said Mitchell, leading the 
way with long strides. “There is no time to 
waste ; we must act immediately. The carriage 
will not be here for an hour, but we must have 
one in case of need. Curse the luck !” 

Mitchell swore again, under his breath, when 
at last they reached the door by which they had 
entered and found the street deserted. 

“Where are the carriages?” he demanded of 
a servant, idling near. 

“Mostly h’ around the corner, sir; h’all the 


The Cat’s-Eye of Koli Kahn. 129 

public cabs, that is; get one for you at once, 
sir.” 

But Mitchell and Armitage were already 
down the steps and well on their way ere he 
finished. 

“Gentlemen seem to be in a hurry. Lady 
fainted, perhaps,” the servant commented, with 
a shrug and a grin. 

“Only three minutes more,” gasped Nat, as 
they rounded the corner and came within view 
of several stray hacks, drawn up in line. 

“I know it,” answered Mitchell, making for 
the nearest one. “We’ve not an instant for 
bargains. Help me get rid of this fellow.” 

And, springing upon the box, he seized the 
partially dozing and entirely unsuspecting cab- 
man by the shoulders, and, with the assistance 
of Nat, who followed instantly, striking, kick- 
ing, and swearing in two languages, the man 
was dislodged and deposited none too gently 
in the street. Still blaspheming and shouting 
loudly to his companions for help, the deposed 
driver struggled to his feet and in the few 
seconds’ delay incidental to turning the horses 
about, he, together with two quickly-respondent 


130 The Cat’s-Eye of Koli Kahn. 

and wholly sympathetic comrades, was upon 
them. 

Mitchell flourished the whip before their ex- 
cited faces. “Keep off,” he shouted, angrily. 
“I want this carriage and I mean to have it. 
Take that, and shut your mouths.” And, 
flinging them a bank note of uncommon denom- 
ination, he urged the excited horses forward 
at a gallop. 

“We’ll bring it back,” called Nat, reassur- 
ingly. 

“It’s all right, sir,” shouted the completely 
mollified man, still rubbing his bruises, “your 
friend’s a gentleman.” 

Dashing on, they turned the corner with 
dangerous rapidity and drove furiously in the 
direction of the Eastern gate. After passing 
the main entrance, the street gradually grew 
darker and less frequented, until, as they neared 
their destination, the lack of life and light ren- 
dered it all but impossible of belief that they 
were still skirting the boundaries of the same 
great mansion whose interior was all aglow 
with animation and brilliancy. Slightly check- 
ing their speed, and turning yet another curve, 
they came within sight of the East gateway. 


The Cat’s-Eye of Koli Kahn. 131 

Before it, darkly ominous in the shadow, 
loomed a waiting vehicle, the back of which 
was toward them. 

“God! Do you see that, Mitchell,” cried 
Nat, wild with excitement. 

“I do,” replied the former, spurring the 
horses. “And we are none too soon, either.” 

Even as he spoke two figures appeared and 
came swiftly toward the carriage. In one, tall, 
dark, and masculine, they immediately recog- 
nized the Mahatma; the other was that of a 
woman clad in light evening dress. Her per- 
fect figure, contour, and poise of head, proving 
all too unmistakably her identity. Mitchell 
groaned aloud, as he lashed the horses in a 
frantic but futile endeavor to reach the spot in 
time to intercept proceedings. It was useless. 
Before they were yet near enough to pull up, 
they saw the Mahatma take Edith in his arms, 
and, placing her quickly within the carriage, he 
sprang to the seat and seized the reins. The 
two men leaped to the ground and rushed to- 
ward him, running like mad. The carriage 
started rapidly forward ; they were too late. It 
was impossible to reach him. The Mahatma 
neither turned nor spoke, but gave his undi- 


132 The Cat’s-Eye of Koli Kahn. 

vided attention to the horses. Inside the car- 
riage they caught a glimpse of white they knew 
was Edith, and both their hearts gave a great 
throb of agony as they saw the pale, still face. 

“Get back to the other carriage, Nat, and 
come on as fast as you can/’ cried Mitchell 
softly, a sudden lightning-like resolution taking 
possession of him. 

Nat sprang to obey, and Mitchell dashed to- 
ward the back of the carriage. Seizing the 
springbar with all the agility of his old-time 
athletic college days, he drew himself from the 
ground, and, obtaining a slight, unstable foot- 
ing, clung with desperate pertinacity to the 
swaying vehicle. Then reaching forward over 
the edge of the top, he felt its smooth surface, 
hoping to obtain a more secure clinging place. 
There was none; and, ascertaining the fact, 
without a moment’s hesitancy, with hands and 
arms braced for the effort, he let go his foot- 
hold and sprang into the air. His muscles re- 
sponded gloriously to the demand upon them, 
and swiftly, gracefully, with an enormous ex- 
ertion of strength and will, he raised himself 
to the top of the carriage. Without pausing 
to take breath, he cleared the front edge in one 


The Cat’s-Eye of Koli Kahn. 133 

wild, exultant leap and was down beside the 
Mahatma. 

“You villain! You Hindu hound!” he 
panted. “Take that, and that,” and began 
dealing blows with an abruptness and rapacity 
that should have paralyzed their recipient. 

Without budging a hair’s breadth, the %ure 
of the Mahatma remained as before, unmoved, 
firmly seated, and totally unaffected by the as- 
sault. He sat erect, his strange dark profile 
imbued with a weird immobility almost un- 
earthly in its expressionless stoicism, but di- 
recting the now wildly-plunging horses with a 
rare skill and efficacy that threatened to leave 
Nat far behind. 

Pausing aghast in his mad onset, one arm 
still extended in acrimonious endeavor, with a 
cry of defeated incredulity, Mitchell recoiled 
as from an apparition. Only for an instant he 
faltered. Then summoning an accumulation 
of renewed energy and determination, he 
reached swiftly forward and wrested the whip 
from the hand of his apathetic opponent. 
Swinging it backward with a loud switch, he 
brought it down hissingly above the form of 
the Hindu, who sat as motionless as a man of 


134 The Cat’s-Eye of Koli Kahn. 

bronze. Before it could come into immediate 
contact with his body, just as it approximated 
the consequent and logical result, a sharp, ex- 
plosive report sounded from its vicinity, and, 
rebounding with frightful force, it rent the air 
close by Mitchell’s face, and then, with a last 
quivering thrill like that of a dying creature, 
it hung limp and lifeless in his hands. 

The effect upon Mitchell was that of a man 
foiled and perplexed, but undespairing, and as 
the helplessness of his situation burst upon him, 
he seemed to regain fresh courage and coolness 
wherewith to combat his impregnable and im- 
passive adversary. Still retaining the whip, 
now a completely ruined wreck ; a mere flaccid 
string, he examined it attentively; a strange, 
sulphuric odor exuded from it. 

“Burned, by Jove !” he muttered, as he dis- 
carded the useless weapon. “It is a battle be- 
tween us,” he thought, as he sank back for a 
moment beside his silent and inauspicious com- 
panion. “And an uneven one, at that, for he 
has the devil’s own protection, which I have 
not; but the object would be worth struggling 
for, though the end were certain death.” He 
thought of Edith, a prisoner within the power 


The Cat’s-Eye of Koli Kahn. 135 

of this black fiend whom all the powers for 
evil seemed to shield and defend. 

The speed of the horses seemed slightly di- 
minished and Mitchell looked back, and, with a 
feeling of supreme thankfulness, discovered 
the other carriage still in sight, and not ap- 
parently losing ground. A complete stranger 
to any emotion approaching fear, his sensations 
were rather those of one awed as in the presence 
of death, and the close proximity of the still 
spectral figure filled him, for the moment, with 
a chill sense of horror and inadequacy to cope 
with the supernatural. But his characteristic 
courage and dogged persistency soon reasserted 
themselves, and, leaning suddenly over, he tore 
the reins from the other’s grasp, pushing him 
from his seat with all the strength of his body. 
He met but slight resistance. The ghastly fig- 
ure seemed to melt from his touch as though 
fearing the contamination of his nearness, and 
vanished without a sound beyond the end of the 
seat into the darkness. Almost instantly he 
felt an imperative tug at the reins, and, turning 
with apprehensive alertness, he beheld the dark, 
shadowy form of Koli Kahn once more at his 


136 The Cat’s-Eye of Koli Kahn. 

side. It had reappeared upon the other side 
of the carriage ! 

His swarthy countenance no longer wore 
its former invulnerable expression, but had as- 
sumed a portentous aspect, menacing, repug- 
nant, alight with a deadly, spiritual hatred. A 
terrific conflict now ensued. The reins twitched 
this way, then that, in a mad contention for 
supremacy between the two indomitable wills. 
The carriage rocked from side to side, and the 
horses began their dance to an agitated, con- 
fused, up-and-down measure that threatened 
disaster. Mitchell, stimulated by the evidence 
of desperation manifested in his antagonist’s 
manner, now fought with maniacal fervency. 
At times succeeding in unseating his ghostly 
enemy only to have him reappear as before upon 
the opposite side — grim, threatening, uncon- 
querable — but evading his grasp with a phan- 
tom-like persistency that frustrated all effort. 

Slightly relaxing his grip upon the reins, 
Mitchell turned quickly toward the Mahatma. 
The horses plunged frantically on once more, 
guided by the Hindu. He was without weapon 
of any kind, even if such would avail, which 


The Cat’s-Eye of Koli Kahn. 137 

he doubted. The sense of powerlessness again 
overcame him. 

“If I could but throttle him,” he groaned 
internally. 

At that instant he caught a glimpse of some- 
thing faintly gleaming — a sinister ray of light 
amid the blackness of Koli Kahn’s ensemble; 
it reposed restfully upon his bosom and seemed 
to blink at him, mockingly defiant. It was the 
cat’s-eye jewel which the Hindu wore. Gov- 
erned by an uncontrollable impulse, sure and 
swift as a woman’s intuition, he plucked the 
glowing gem from its abiding place and flour- 
ished it aloft. 

The Mahatma leaped furiously into the air 
in a frenzied attempt to recover his property, 
oblivious of the reins, heedless of the horses, 
which, rearing madly, plunged toward the op- 
posite curbing, and Mitchell struck out savage- 
ly with a fist of iron. This time his blows met 
material resistance, and felt the thrilling sting 
of contact with the flesh. An instant’s vivid 
photographic impression remained sensitized 
upon his vision — a face livid with fear and 
hatred, fiendish in its animosity, with a dash of 
blood upon the forehead; — then the ghastly 


138 The Cat’s-Eye of Koli Kahn. 

form fell reeling over the dasher; there came 
a terrific crash as they collided with some ob- 
ject offering strenuous resistance, and a faint, 
inarticulate cry echoed in his brain. There was 
the ripping and splitting and rending asunder 
of wood and leather, and the terrified horses, 
freed at last, galloped away like the wind, — the 
sharp, even beat of hoofs resounding less and 
less clearly until they died away in the dis- 
tance and all was still. 

‘Thank God!” exclaimed Mitchell, as he 
slipped from his seat to the ground, considera- 
bly shaken but uninjured, and began peering 
carefully in all directions under and about the 
carriage. Not the slightest sign or vestige of 
the Mahatma could he discover. Koli Kahn 
had disappeared utterly. 

Hardly had he completed his unavailing 
search, when he became aware of an impatient, 
peremptory knocking upon the inside of the 
carriage, and a glad shout from Nat greeted 
his ears. Hastily wiping the moisture from 
his face and hands, he flung open the carriage 
door and faced the blazing, challenging wrath 
expressed in the penetrative gaze of Miss Fes- 
senden's beautiful eyes. 


The Cat’s-Eye of Koli Kahn. 139 

“What does this mean, Mr. Mitchell ? Why 
am I here, and where are you trying to take 
me?” cried that indignant young lady, as she 
alighted eagerly and without assistance, dis- 
daining his proffered aid. “You too, Mr. 
Armitage,” she added, scornfully, as the gen- 
tleman named came hastily toward them and 
grasping Mitchell’s hand, wrung it heartily. 

“Well done, by Christopher!” he ejaculated. 
“I could see him shooting flame like a minia- 
ture searchlight, and I thought there was only 
the ghost of a show there.” He laughed ner- 
vously at his unmeditated witticism. “But 
where is he now ? Did you kill him, or did he 
go up in smoke?” 

“I should say the latter, only he went down,”' 
answered Mitchell, tersely. “He disappeared, 
but he left this.” And opening his hand he 
displayed to view the cat’s-eye, watching Edith 
attentively as he did so. She uttered a low 
cry of amazed horror and recognition, then be- 
gan to tremble slightly, and her hand went to 
her brow in wondering bewilderment. 

“There seems to be much that I do not un- 
derstand,” she faltered, at length. “Will you 


140 The Cat's-Eye of Koli Kahn. 

be kind enough to explain what you are talk- 
ing about ?” 

“Certainly, my dear Miss Fessenden/ 1 an- 
swered Nat, promptly. “But won’t you take 
a seat in the other carriage first?” 

“No,” came decisively, from the childish 
lips, in the beauty’s usual imperious manner. 
“I will remain where I am for the present.” 

So placing himself protectingly near, with 
many an apprehensive glance into the shadow, 
while Mitchell paced steadily to and fro on 
guard, Nat began his story. During his elo- 
quent and expansive portrayal of events, Edith 
was all attention, absording every word with 
a breathless eagerness tinged at first with in- 
credulity which showed plainly the startling 
revelation his words conveyed. With his cus- 
tomary and characteristic generosity, Nat di- 
lated at some length upon Mitchell’s unmiti- 
gated bravery. Then the latter calmly took up 
the recital and gave a brief but thrilling ac- 
count of his own remarkable experiences. As 
he finished, Edith shuddered, and no one spoke 
for a minute. 

“It seems that I have a great deal to thank 
you both for,” she said finally. And turning 


The Cat’s-Eye of Koli Kahn. 141 

toward Nat, she extended her hand. The de- 
lighted youth seized it with avidity and bent 
deferentially over it. “But,” and a sudden 
decrease of dignity was noticeable in her tone, 
“I am very tired,” and she turned swiftly to 
Mitchell, with the impulsiveness of a weary 
child seeking its mother's arms. “Mr. Mitchell, 
Raymond, will you take me home, please?” 

With an agitation far greater than he had 
yet felt, Mitchell advanced obediently to her 
side, his manner betraying but little of his in- 
ward trepidation and Nat turned quickly away. 

“Oh, Mr. Armitage !” she exclaimed, almost 
instantly, “forgive me, I forgot there was but 
one carriage. You will come with us, of 
course.” 

“It's all right,” answered Nat, with philo- 
sophic cheerfulness. “Somebody’s got to 
drive;” and he mounted the box with an 
equanimity born of his philanthropic spirit. 

The following morning, Raymond Mitchell 
was just finishing his late breakfast, his mind 
still filled with the occurrences of the previous 
night, which now seemed to have been but a 
weirdly, horrible dream, with a beautiful and 


142 The Cat’s-Eye of Koli Kahn. 

ecstatic ending, when Mr. Nathan Armitage 
was announced, and the next minute Nat burst 
noisily into the room. He was in a state of evi- 
dent excitement. “Have you seen the Chroni- 
cle ?” he cried, and, at Mitchell's negative re- 
sponse, he placed it in his hands. “Read it,” 
he gasped, pointing out a head-line paragraph 
among the society notes. The following extra- 
ordinary notice met Mitchell's eyes: 

“STRANGE AND UNACCOUNTABLE 
DEATH OF A HINDU MAHATMA. 

“Koli Kahn, the Great Eastern Adept, whose 
Theosophic Learning was believed by the Bud- 
dhists to surmount Mortality, Dies at the Home 
of Mrs. von Sweetman. 

“The renowned theosophist was the guest and 
the attraction of the evening, and his remark- 
ably intellectual face and distinguished bear- 
ing drew much attention. He seemed distant, 
however, and unresponsive to the evident ad- 
miration and interest he excited. And it was 
not until the evening was half over that he could 
be persuaded to give the smallest exhibition 
of his highly-developed attainments in psychic- 


The Cat’s-Eye of Koli Kahn. 143 

al and occult knowledge. After many solici- 
tations, and though apparently disinclined to 
gratify his insistent audience, he finally acqui- 
esced. He then commanded that no one should 
be allowed to touch him during the trance pe- 
riod. And to prevent the many spectators from 
infringing upon this stipulation, a small enclos- 
ure was arranged for him. Entering this, he 
reclined, and fell at once into a deep lethargy 
in which all respiration of the body appeared 
to cease, though he soon became consciously 
animate and began to speak. He described, 
in weird, excited language, strange scenes and 
people and, as one after another besought him 
with questions, his soul responded eloquently 
and grandly, obedient to the individual wills 
of a hundred seekers after psychical phenom- 
ena, Suddenly a tremor shook his whole 

frame, and his words ceased. He clutched 
the air violently, with a frenzy born of despair ; 
again and again he essayed to raise himself by 
invisible means, but his strength failed, and he 
struggled as one in mortal agony. Before the 
excited crowd could realize that this was not 
another phase of clairvoyance, blood trickled 
from his forehead, he gave a great cry, and 


f 


144 The Cat’s-Eye of Koli Kahn. 

fell back dead. -It is exceedingly to be re- 

gretted that so ghastly and unfortunate an oc- 
currence should have necessitated the termina- 
tion of a most delightful evening, and Mrs. 
von Sweetman was the recipient of many de- 
monstrative expressions of sympathy.” 

A little further on, Mitchell read: 

“It was observed that a singular jewel which 
he always wore, a large, and unusually bril- 
liant cat’s-eye, had disappeared, and it was sur- 
mised by those present and all versed in the 
religion of the great Gautama Buddha, and 
aware of the value to the Eastern adept of his 
phylactery, that the loss of this talisman had a 
probable intimate connection with the sudden 
deprivation of his psychical powers and his sub- 
sequent horrible death. A large reward will be 
offered at the suggestion of Mrs. von Sweetman 
for the apprehension of the jewel.” 

“Hum!” said Mitchell slowly. “I am not 
so much surprised ; nor would you be had you 
been in my place last night. It merely con- 
firms my previous opinion, that it was not 


The Cat’s-Eye of Koli Kahn. 145 

the man himself, but the akasa, or astral body, 
with which I had to deal. That he should 
have been able to keep up such a clever display 
at the same time, as a blind to his fiendish 
machinations, certainly argues well for his pro- 
ficiency in occultism. Most of them have to 
keep rather quiet during their astral gyrations. 
Concerning the cat’s-eye, — they may give 
themselves much trouble, for in spite of bars 
and bolts, securely locked in the inner 
drawer of an iron safe, the key of which I 
placed beneath my pillow, I found this morning 
that it had disappeared, and until you arrived, 
I was without material evidence that the whole 
thrilling encounter was not the weird, fantastic 
fabrication of a tired brain.” 

“I take it you have not yet called on Miss 
Fessenden, then,” suggested Nat, with an in- 
sinuating smile. 

“No,” replied Mitchell, reminiscently, “but 
I intend to before the day is out.” 





















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